


Love in the Shape of Things

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Early Queen (Band), Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Queer Themes, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Social Justice Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: They’re both searching for their place in the world, but it takes a new flat and a housewarming gift gone awry for Freddie and Brian’s friendship to slowly turn into something deeper. And through long evenings of commiseration and camaraderie, their feelings for each other continue to grow - until one misunderstanding threatens to tear everything apart.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury, Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s), background Brian May/Others
Comments: 65
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modern AU set vaguely at the beginning of Queen’s career, with a smattering of names from the late 70s and 80s thrown in for good measure, and a lot of exploration of queer identities and community set against a backdrop of mutual pining.
> 
> Each chapter will be alternating between Brian’s and Freddie’s POV and there will be roughly 14 chapters total. Unlike with other stories of mine this is planned out but isn’t completely written yet, but hopefully I’ll be able to update fairly consistently!

When Tim Staffell leaves Smile, Brian’s living situation gets very awkward very quickly. 

The two of them had been renting a place together, because neither wanted to live with strangers and they had known each other long enough to be fairly certain that they could cohabitate well. And they did, really things had been going great, but there’s a little tension when Brian leaves for rehearsals with the new Smile lineup and Tim departs to practice with his new band. Then things get much more uncomfortable when the rebranded Queen starts to gain popularity and Humpy Bong goes nowhere at all. 

So Brian cuts his losses when their lease is up and moves into his own place. 

It is, admittedly, a bit of a shithole. There’s water stains on the living room wall and rust stains in the bathroom sink and Brian’s bed takes up almost the entirety of the single bedroom. The last tenant had been a smoker and the place still faintly smells of cigarettes, and Brian had opened the living room window to find lingering ash and burn marks on the sill. The walls are thin and the hot water runs out quickly but he doesn’t have to share his food or get woken up by his roommate stumbling home from a gig at 2 o’clock in the morning, so as far as Brian’s concerned it’s almost perfect. 

Freddie, Roger, and John help him move his meager belongings on a Friday afternoon. Brian’s furniture consists of his bed, his nightstand, a few bookcases, and a single sofa. He doesn’t own a table and there’s not enough room for the four of them on the sofa, but they drag a few boxes over to use as makeshift tables and Brian takes a spot on the floor as John and Freddie finalize a pizza order and Roger mixes drinks in the kitchen. 

“Hey, John! Take my card, I’ll pay for pizza!” Roger calls over his shoulder as John dials the number for the pizzeria. 

“You actually have money in your bank account?” John asks skeptically as he catches the wallet that Roger tosses to him and starts rifling through the cards. 

“No, credit card - not that one, the other one-”

“I can pay for the pizza, since you all helped me move,” Brian tries to offer. 

“Nope! This is my housewarming gift to you.” Roger walks the short distance back into the living room and passes Brian a drink, and sets up a line of shot glasses. “Well, and the alcohol.”

“I’m not sure that’s how this is supposed to work.”

“Sure it is.” Roger unscrews the cap from the bottle of vodka and starts pouring out shots. Brian catches sight of the bottom-shelf label on the bottle and can already feel his throat start to burn. “People give alcohol as housewarming gifts all the time.”

“People give _wine_ as housewarming gifts, not shitty vodka,” Freddie corrects as he sprawls out on the sofa. “And besides, you’re only paying for food because your actual gift got fucked up.”

“Actual gift?” Brian echoes. He’s not sure if he should be worried about the implications of that or not.

“Of course. Did you really think we weren’t going to give you trinkets for your new place?” Freddie says with an exasperated smile.

Brian had thought that, yes - not because he didn’t think his friends cared, but because he knows what their finances look like and he can’t help but feel a little guilty that they spent money on him. He takes a swig of his drink rather than answering Freddie, and jumps a little when John suddenly appears and sets a decently large box down next to the sofa. 

“Pizza will be here in 15, and I heard you all talking about the gifts so I brought them over,” he says as he pushes Freddie’s feet up so he can sit on the sofa as well. “Who wants to go first?”

“You guys really didn’t have to…” Brian tries to say, but Freddie is already sitting up and leaning over John to pull a small, poorly-wrapped package out of the box. 

“Here, darling, open mine first!” he says as he passes it over to Brian. 

It’s a bit heavier than Brian was expecting, and when he opens it up he’s surprised to see that it’s a candle. The label says that the scent is “eucalyptus mint”, which Brian is pretty sure that he’s never smelled before in his life, but when he opens the lid and gives it a tentative sniff he’s pleased to find that it’s refreshing and not at all overpowering like he was afraid. 

“You had complained about the cigarette smell from the last tenant, so I thought this might help cover it up,” Freddie explains. 

“Oh. Well, thank you,” Brian says, a little touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. 

Freddie sits back, clearly pleased that his gift was so well-received, as John hands over a much larger, and heavier, gift bag. The item inside isn’t wrapped at all, and as Brian pulls the tissue paper away he can immediately see the toolkit that John bought for him. 

“It’s just the basics, but this way you don’t have to try to unscrew things with a knife,” John explains as Brian pulls the kit out to take a closer look at it. 

Considering Brian had used a shoe to pound down a nail that had come loose in one of the kitchen cupboards earlier that day, it’s a gift that he knows will be getting a lot of use. 

“Thanks, John. Really appreciate that,” he says sincerely as he sets it aside. 

There’s one more wrapped package left, and as Brian pulls it out Roger sits up quickly and squawks, “Hey, wait! That’s not supposed to be in there!”

“You did buy it for Brian, though, didn’t you?” Freddie says with a wicked glint in his eyes and the corner of his mouth just curling up in the beginnings of a smirk. 

“I don’t have to open it…”

Roger groans and reaches for one of the shots that he poured out earlier, tossing it back and shaking his head as it burns on the way down. “Ugh, no, go ahead,” he mutters. “You’re gonna have to let me explain things, though.”

That only makes Brian more wary about opening the gift but he dutifully tears the paper away to reveal a small fabric bundle with a paper label wrapped around it. “Wall Tapestry - Motivational Words,” Brian reads aloud. 

Freddie’s smile immediately vanishes and he sits up quickly, looking between the tapestry and Roger with an expression caught somewhere between guilt and horror.

“There’s this girl down at the art students’ consignment shop who gets her work printed on wall hangings for fairly cheap and then sells them for a hefty profit, and she sold me one at a discount but when I went to pick it up she had given it to someone else for full price and only had this one left,” Roger says in a rush, almost tripping over himself trying to get the explanation out fast enough. “I took it ‘cause I’d already paid her and she wasn’t going to refund me, but she said I can exchange it for the another once she gets more in and-”

“Rog, it’s fine,” Brian interrupts as he tears the paper label away and starts shaking out the fabric. “I’m sure it’s not _that_ bad…”

It absolutely is that bad. 

The [tapestry](https://i.imgur.com/XMwdnKU.png) consists of black text on a stark-white background. _YOU ARE_ is printed in block letters in the middle, with several hollow adjectives scattered around in a variety of awful and contrasting fonts. _STRONG_ is printed in a large script at the bottom, and _ENOUGH_ is written in all-caps along the top. Brian tilts his head to read _CAPTIVATING_ running down the left side of the tapestry, and what is that even supposed to mean?

“I didn’t realize she had given you _that_ one,” Freddie says in a slightly strangled voice. 

“That’s why I didn’t want to give it to him, you prick!” Roger hisses at him, and to Brian he adds, “Brian, I swear I wasn’t taking the piss out of you, it was _supposed_ to be some space print and I promise I’ll get you a new one as soon as I can-”

Brian bursts out laughing. He can see why Roger was worried about the implications of a “motivational words” tapestry, having been on the receiving end of more than one of Brian’s panic attacks and black moods over the years that they’ve been friends, but Brian is in a better place these days. The hideousness of the tapestry, combined with the look of absolute mortification on Roger’s and Freddie’s faces, just makes the whole situation amusing.

“Nah, don’t worry about getting me a new one,” he tells Roger as he rolls the tapestry back up and sets it aside. “The white will brighten the place up, and this will still cover the water stains well enough.”

“Assuming you have a wall large enough to hang it on,” John says dryly, and the joke breaks any lingering tension in the room.

The pizza arrives not long after that, which means Roger insists on everyone finally doing shots now that they have food to line their stomachs. The vodka really is as disgusting as Brian thought it would be and he gags and chokes and barely keeps it down. John is grimacing and shuddering as well, and even Freddie has a pinched look on his face as he says, “Darling, that is fucking _awful_.”

It really is, but that doesn’t stop them from drinking it. It’s a Friday night and, for once, none of them have plans for the rest of the weekend - leaving them free to get drunk on shitty vodka and whatever mixed drinks Roger can concoct, while John manages to set up the telly on top of one of the bookcases and they argue over what to watch.

The four of them are always a little loud and chaotic, especially when alcohol and close quarters are thrown into the mix, but Brian doesn’t mind. He’s sure his new neighbors do, but he loves hanging out with his friends like this, without the stress of their studies or their combined lack of money or worries about the band weighing them down. They’re still young - John is only 21, for god’s sake - but it doesn’t always feel that way, and it’s nice to really be able to relax and go a little crazy for a night. 

Out of all of them, though, Brian is the least used to letting loose like this. He ends up on the sofa next to Freddie, slumped against the singer as John flips through the channels and Roger reheats a few slices of pizza. 

“Tired, dear?” Freddie asks. He has one hand petting Brian’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, and to Brian’s drunken senses it feels like absolute _heaven_. 

“Mm, ‘m good,” he mumbles as he nuzzles against Freddie’s shoulder. He knows he’s going down fast but Freddie is warm and smells nice and he doesn’t want to move, and when someone tries to pull him up off the sofa he whines unhappily. 

“C’mon, Brimi, off to bed with you,” Roger says, hauling Brian to his feet. 

Brian grumbles and tries to grab Freddie, who rolls his eyes but stumbles to his feet as well and gives Brian a fondly exasperated smile. “You’re quite a handful, you know that?” Freddie teases as he helps Roger support Brian as the three of them make the short trek over to the bedroom. 

Luckily, Brian had the foresight to make up his bed earlier in the day so it’s easy for him to settle underneath the covers. He’s absolutely wasted, and he’s going to have _so_ many regrets in the morning, but he’s not quite at the point of passing out and he can still hear Roger and Freddie talking from the doorway to the bedroom. 

“‘s too late to deal with an Uber, you fine crashing here?” Roger asks. 

“Yeah, of course. Who’s taking the floor?”

“John volunteered earlier. I’ll take the sofa, you can share with Brian since he seems to be a bit _clingy_ tonight…”

“Oh, piss off, Rog,” Freddie snaps, and Roger’s answering laughter is muffled by Freddie closing the bedroom door. 

It’s too much effort for Brian to keep his eyes open but he can hear Freddie turning off the lights and climbing into the other side of the bed. Rolling over makes Brian’s entire world spin but it’s worth it for being able to cuddle up close to Freddie’s side again. 

Freddie jumps a little at the contact, and then laughs and brushes a hand through Brian’s hair again. “Thought you were asleep.”

“I am,” Brian mumbles into Freddie’s shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Freddie laughs. “Thank you. And you are _quite_ drunk.”

“‘m not,” Brian says, but he’s not sure if Freddie hears him - and he’s not entirely sure that he doesn't imagine Freddie pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head before sleep claims him. 

The next morning Brian wakes up alone, nauseous and feeling like death. He rolls over and moans pitifully as his stomach protests even that slight movement. Sitting up is a process that takes several minutes of careful maneuvering, and he’s relieved to see that someone left a glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand next to the bed. He takes a few cautious sips and, when those stay down, swallows the pills and finally forces himself to stand up. 

He manages to make it into the living room without losing his balance or the contents of his stomach, where he finds Freddie sitting alone on the sofa. Brian leans against the doorframe, staring around the small room with bleary-eyed confusion as Freddie watches him, hiding a smile behind his cup of tea. 

“Did you… move my furniture?” Brian asks at last. 

“Roger and John did the moving. I just directed them,” Freddie says. “This layout makes more sense for your space.”

“Huh. And you… hung up the tapestry?” It does hide the water stains nicely and Brian was right about the white background brightening up the room, but now that he’s staring at the full design he’s once again struck by how hideous it really is. 

Or maybe he’s just too hungover to have any taste in decorations.

“John did that,” Freddie tells him. His phone chimes and he glances down at it, and swipes away the notification with a small frown. 

“How…?”

“Got the nails from the toolkit he gave you,” Freddie says before Brian can finish the question. “Do you want to sit down, dear? You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” Brian admits as he stumbles over to the sofa and sits down next to Freddie. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Of course, darling,” Freddie says dryly. Brian aims an ineffective kick towards Freddie’s leg, which he easily avoids. “Well, Rog went to get some breakfast. You’ll feel better once there’s some food in your stomach.”

Brian’s stomach rolls at the thought of eating _anything_ , even though he knows that Freddie is probably right. “What about tea?”

“What about it?”

Brian gives Freddie what he knows must be a pitiful look and Freddie laughs, though it’s soft and not malicious at all. “Alright. You stay put, I’ll get you a cuppa.”

“Thanks,” Brian says as he slouches further down into the sofa.

He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Freddie in the kitchen, digging through the still-unpacked boxes that they brought over yesterday and running the water in the sink. It’s a nice sort of background noise, he thinks, somehow familiar and comforting even though he’s more used to the sound of Tim swearing at their old appliances or Roger’s general loud exuberance rather than Freddie’s soft humming. Maybe the hangover is almost worth it, if it’s followed up with quiet mornings like this. 

And then the sound of the microwave interrupts the moment and Brian, frowning, cracks an eye open and stares at the opening to the kitchen in bewilderment.

As if sensing Brian’s confusion even from the other room, Freddie pops his head around the corner and says, pointing a finger at Brian in mock sternness, “Don’t say anything about microwaved hot water. Your kitchen outlet nearly started a fire this morning when I tried to use your kettle.”

“ _What_?” Brian sits up quickly in alarm, and groans as his entire body protests the sudden movement. Freddie’s phone, still sitting on the arm of the sofa, chimes again, and the noise feels like someone is hammering at the inside of his skull.

“Don’t worry dear, John ran out to get some bits to fix it,” Freddie assures him. The microwave stops and Freddie ducks back into the kitchen and keeps talking. “And he’ll check the rest of the outlets, make sure they’re all working fine as well.”

John may know his way around circuits but he isn’t exactly a licensed electrician, and Brian tries to figure out if he should be refusing his friend’s offer of repairs or if his grouch of a new landlord would even be bothered to get someone else in to deal with it. But his synapses still aren’t quite firing properly and before he can decide on the best course of action, Freddie is standing in front of him with a cup of tea and his train of thought is derailed again. 

“It’s mint. Should help with the nausea,” Freddie says as Brian takes the cup from him with a quiet, but sincere, thanks. Brian is expecting Freddie to sit back down but instead he stays standing for several long moments, staring at the wall behind Brian, before finally saying, “That tapestry really is fucking awful.”

Brian snorts, nearly spilling the hot tea down his front. “It could be worse, you know.”

“I honestly don’t think it could be.”

“Well it covers the water stains at least,” Brian says. He looks for a place to set down his tea. He ends up placing it carefully on one of the still-closed packing boxes, and makes a note to pick up some sort of small table for the living room soon.

“That isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Freddie says. 

He’s still studying the tapestry with a critical eye and Brian wonders what he, as a former art student, sees in it. To Brian it’s just _boring_ , the black and white making it wholly unremarkable and the odd choice of design not helping matters. But Freddie has an eye for details and designs. He knows what works and what doesn’t, and even if his personal tastes veer a hair past what’s truly fashionable he still knows how to make things look good. What Brian sees as just bland might very well be a personal attack to Freddie’s senses.

“I could probably improve that for you, if you wanted,” Freddie offers at last. “At least paint it a little, add some color to it.” He glances over at Brian and gives him a small, teasing smile as he adds, “You could use a little bit more color in your life, dear.”

If Brian was slightly more awake - or slightly more alive - he might have tried to demur. He’s not entirely sure if the offer is a serious one and he’s sure that Freddie has more important things to do with his time… but Brian can’t be bothered to get in a back-and-forth about a fucking _tapestry_ when he’s this hungover, so he just says, “Alright, sure. Sounds great.”

“Wonderful! I’ll bring some things over tomorrow and get this brightened up for you right away!” Freddie flops back down on the sofa just as his phone chimes again. Brian winces at the shrill noise, a gesture which doesn’t go unnoticed by Freddie who quickly grabs his phone and silences it. “Sorry about that, darling, forgot quite how loud that can be.”

Brian shrugs. “‘s alright. What if you miss something important though?”

Freddie rolls his eyes and says, “Trust me, it’s nothing important at all.”

Brian frowns, wondering who would be blowing up Freddie’s phone on a Saturday morning if it wasn’t anything important, but before he can ask Freddie about it Brian’s door is thrown open and Roger and John come stumbling in, tripping over each other and laughing loudly and tossing bags of food and bits of hardware on the kitchen counter. Brian groans at the noise and buries his face against the arm of the sofa, as if that can stop his head from throbbing in pain, and Freddie jumps up to scold the two of them. 

Queen is always a little loud and chaotic, but if they could all be a little less so while Brian dies of his hangover he thinks that would be much preferable.


	2. Chapter 2

Freddie has a bit of a problem, and that problem is his growing crush on one Brian Harold May.

It’s hardly his fault, he thinks, that he finds the man attractive. Tall and lean, with gorgeous curls that Freddie wants to run his fingers through and kind eyes that he could just get lost in… Really, it’s just not fair that Brian can be so lovely and somehow be completely unaware of it.

If it was just a matter of looks Freddie knows he would be over it by now. Dozens of people catch his fancy every week, from cute baristas to that new art student working down at the consignment shop who blushes bright red every time Freddie flirts with him. It’s not that Freddie is shallow, he just finds beauty in the smallest of things, like the way someone moves their hands, or the pattern of freckles across their cheekbones, or the sound of their laugh across a crowded club.

The problem is that there’s just so much about Brian that Freddie finds beautiful - his intelligence and the spark in his eyes when he talks about his studies, and his fingers as they fly across the strings of his guitar, and the specific note in his voice that let’s Freddie know that he really cares when he asks, “Everything alright, Fred?”

Freddie is mulling all this over as he adjusts the box of old art supplies tucked under his arm to knock on Brian’s door. It’s always a joy to spend time alone with Brian, something that rarely happens when the four of them spend so much time together as a unit, but despite what Roger insinuated when Freddie left their shared flat he really doesn’t have any ulterior motives here. No matter how lovely Brian looks when he gets a little flustered, Freddie isn’t going ruin one of the best friendships he has for the sake of some silly crush that he’ll no doubt get over soon enough.

Freddie's phone chimes just as he knocks on the door for a second time. It’s the bright chirp (not _shrill_ , no matter what Roger says) that lets him know that it’s a text from Paul or Joe or one of his other queer friends that he usually meets up with for a night out at the clubs. He’s hasn’t had time to go out with them recently, between helping Brian move and with Queen preparing to record their first album, but he still glances at the message in the group chat anyway to see what the others are up to.

_**Paul:** VV 2night anyone?_

Vice Versa is their usual club of choice and Freddie’s favorite to go to, but he’s not sure if he’ll have time to doll himself up after spending the afternoon painting… Then again, his favorite bartender works there and flirting with Vince might just take Freddie’s mind off of Brian.

As he’s debating his own answer, a response comes through from Phoebe.

_**Phoebe:** Working. Next weekend?_

_**Paul:** ur no fun at all_

_**Joe:** I have a date let’s plan for fri_

_**Paul:** wed? ½ priced drinks._

Freddie frowns at his phone. He used to love going out any night of the week that he could, but something about Paul’s recent invites has been rubbing Freddie the wrong way. They’re too insistent, and his “teasing” jokes about the rest of them being dull have been getting a little more pointed with each passing week. One of them is going to have to say something about it eventually but Freddie doesn’t have the time to deal with that now.

So he mutes the conversation instead, remembering how the alert tone had aggravated Brian’s hangover yesterday morning, and opens up his texts to Brian.

 _ **Freddie:** still want me to paint that tapestry?  
_ _im outside._

A moment later there’s a loud _thump_ from inside the flat and then the door is wrenched open by a very frazzled-looking Brian. “Shit, Freddie, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot that you offered to come over today!”

“Not your fault, darling, I should have sent you a text before I turned up on your doorstep.” Freddie is kicking himself now for not doing that because Brian still looks distracted, like he was interrupted in the middle of working on something, and he doesn’t step aside to let Freddie in. “I can come back some other time-”

“No! No, god, come in, come in,” Brian says and finally opens the door wider to let Freddie inside.

As soon as Freddie walks in he’s greeted by the same stacks of boxes and empty bookcases that had been there when Freddie left yesterday. “Have you unpacked _anything_?” he asks as he looks for a place to set down his art supplies. There isn’t really anywhere available, so he begrudgingly leaves them tucked against to the wall underneath where the tapestry is hanging.

“I got some stuff out…” Brian says, and when Freddie glances over at him he can see Brian shifting piles of notes and textbooks off the couch. The earbuds that had been plugged in get accidentally pulled out when Brian moves his laptop, and _Eleanor Rigby_ blasts through the tinny speakers before Brian manages to mute the music.

Well. That, at least, explains why he didn’t hear Freddie knocking.

“You found your school notes. I hardly think that counts as unpacking,” Freddie teases.

“Ah, well, I just wanted to work on this one section of my thesis and I must’ve lost track of time...” There’s a flush growing across Brian’s face and he busies himself with shuffling around his papers instead of looking at Freddie, and Freddie has a sinking feeling that his joke didn’t land quite the way he wanted it to.

“I can help if you want,” Freddie offers.

Brian tilts his head in confusion, and Freddie stamps down the thought of how much he looks like a lost puppy when he does that. “With my thesis?” Brian asks, more than a little skeptical.

Freddie laughs. “No, of course not! I meant with your unpacking.” He brushes past Brian and into the kitchen, where he’s greeted with the sight of more boxes, which he ignores as he fills up the kettle. “And with plying you with tea, since Deacy fixed your outlets yesterday and it seems like you could use it.”

He hears Brian huff a little in amusement and he glances over his shoulder to see him leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. “I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to. I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“And live out of boxes in the meantime?” Freddie shakes his head, because he knows that if he’s left to his own devices then Brian will probably be living in this state until his lease is up. “Absolutely not. It’ll go quicker with both of us working on it, you’ll just have to tell me where you want everything to go.”

It doesn’t _quite_ end up being that simple. Brian’s furniture, though scarce, still doesn’t quite fit well in his new space even after the adjustments that Freddie, Roger, and John made the previous morning. Brian seems willing to humor Freddie, though, moving bookcases around the living room and rotating the sofa again until Freddie is satisfied with the new arrangements - and even Brian has to admit that it makes it seem like there’s more space in the tiny room than there is actually is.

Unpacking should be easy from there, but none of Brian’s boxes are labelled and they quickly realize that just because something got left in one room that doesn’t mean its contents actually belong there.

“I have a box of spatulas, tea towels, and… shampoo?” Freddie pokes his head out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Brian is meticulously organizing his books onto shelves. “Brian, dear, please tell me you aren’t washing those lovely curls of yours in the kitchen sink…”

Brian lets out a startled laugh and glances up at Freddie. He’s smiling just wide enough that the points of his canines are visible and Freddie pretends that his stomach doesn’t do flips at the sight. “No, but I don’t have much that needs to go in the bathroom besides the shampoo so it all got thrown in with the kitchen things.”

Freddie frowns and takes another look inside the box. There’s a few bottles that Freddie puts in the tiny shower - and how Brian expects to fit in there comfortably, Freddie has no idea - but everything else belongs in the kitchen. It’s certainly not the wide array of products and supplies that take up every inch of space in Freddie’s and Roger’s bathroom, that’s for sure, and Freddie has the irrational urge to go out and buy him a thousand face masks and oils and lotions so Brian can pamper himself the way he deserves.

Probably for the best that Freddie doesn’t have that sort of money to spare, then.

“Well, that’s the last of those boxes,” Freddie says as he perches on the arm of the couch behind Brian, who doesn’t seem to have made any meaningful progress in organizing his bookshelves. “Haven’t found any cleaning supplies yet, though.”

“I don’t think I have any.” Brian picks up a book, studies the cover for a long moment, and then puts it in the middle of an otherwise empty shelf. “Everything at my last place was technically Tim’s, so I left it behind.”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “You should pick some up soon. There’s a sort of _gunk_ in a few of your kitchen drawers that I don’t like the look of.”

Brian glances over at him. “Gunk?”

“Well I don’t know what it is! It’s slimy and I was _not_ touching that!” Freddie lets himself fall backward, lying down on the sofa with his legs still dangling over the arm. “I unpacked your kitchen and made you tea, darling, but I have to draw the line somewhere!”

Brian laughs and Freddie allows himself a small, pleased smile at the sound.

“I really do appreciate the help, Freddie. And cleaning supplies are the first thing I’ll buy once my stipend payout comes through for the month,” Brian says. “Just have to make sure I can make rent and buy groceries first.”

Freddie can certainly empathize with that. Even living with Roger, it seems like the two of them are still scraping to pay bills at the end of every month. Selling vintage clothes and baubles on consignment can only get them so far, and trying to balance freelance design work or modeling gigs with their band commitments is always a bit of a struggle.

“Are you helping with any of the undergrad classes this term as well?” Freddie asks. Brian has in the past, to help make ends meet, and usually ends up running himself ragged because of it.

“Just one,” Brian tells him. He sets another book on the shelf. “I might pick up a few hours in the tutoring center as well, but with how things are going with Queen I wanted to keep some space in my schedule.”

“Mm, probably a good idea. It’ll make it easier to book studio time, at least.” Freddie finally pulls his legs over the arm of the sofa and sits up properly, just in time to see Brian pick up another book, study it for a moment, and set it back down next to him in favor of putting an entirely different book on the shelf. “Do you want help unpacking your books, Bri?”

“Are you just going to put them on the shelves in any order you want?” Brian asks.

That had been the plan, yes, because Freddie suspects that otherwise Brian will be at this for the rest of the day.

“No,” Freddie lies, and he doesn’t fool Brian for a second.

“I still have my turntable to set up and records to organize, if you don’t mind helping me a bit more,” Brian says with a laugh. “But if you just want to get the painting over with and get out of here, I understand.”

Freddie had completely forgotten that that was why he was here in the first place. He turns around to look at the tapestry and, faced with the sheer hideousness of it, can’t resist making a face. “I think I’d rather organize your albums, honestly. As long as you don’t mind me coming back some other day to deal with that.”

“You can come over whenever you want,” Brian tells him. “If I’m not at uni or with the band, I’ll probably just be here anyway.”

“Alright then,” Freddie says, rather than voicing his first thought which was that the idea of Brian spending most of his free time in this tiny, miserable flat is absolutely depressing. “I’ll at least text ahead next time though, in case you already have company.”

Brian snorts and moves a few books over to fit another on the shelf. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, me being single now and all.”

“You don’t have to be in a relationship to bring someone home,” Freddie points out with no small amount of amusement, even though he knows that’s not Brian’s usual modus operandi. Privately he thinks that maybe if Brian let loose a little bit more it would do him some good - and he’d be perfectly willing to volunteer for the task himself, if he didn’t think he’d break Brian (and their friendship, and by extension the entirety of Queen) just by making the offer.

“One-night stands aren’t really my style, Fred,” Brian says, and how he makes even this sort of quaint old-fashionedness seem cute Freddie really has no idea. “‘sides, I’m fine being on my own. I don’t have time to worry about a girlfriend or boyfriend with everything on my plate at the moment.”

Given that Brian had just said that he’s keeping some free time in his schedule this term, Freddie thinks that Brian would probably have enough time for a partner if he really wanted one - but if he doesn’t want one, then Freddie isn’t going to bother him about it or try to change his mind.

“Well, you should get a cat then,” Freddie says instead as he slides off the couch and pulls the box containing Brian’s turntable and records closer towards him. “They’re low maintenance enough.”

“I’ll think about it,” Brian says with a laugh, which usually means that he’ll do nothing of the sort.

Brian’s turntable is a hand-me-down from his father and it’s a bit finicky to get set up correctly. Freddie is familiar with the old machine, though, having spent countless hours hanging out in Brian’s old flat with him and Roger and Tim, steadily working their way through Brian’s small vinyl collection. It only takes him a few minutes to get the speakers connected and everything plugged in correctly, and only another minute to pick out a record and start playing it.

Brian smiles as the opening of _Come Together_ starts drifting softly out of the speakers. “You always pick this album,” he says, although Freddie knows it isn’t a complaint.

“That’s because you don’t own any Hendrix records yet and I’m not listening to Sinatra.” Most of Brian’s vinyls were originally his father’s as well and not quite to Freddie’s tastes, making Beatles albums always the safest bet.

Freddie turns and leans against the part of the bookcase now filled with Brian’s records and lets the music wash over him as he studies the tapestry on the opposite wall. Truthfully he still doesn’t really know what he’s going to do with it. He’d been hoping that inspiration would have struck by now, but he’s still struggling to get past the stark lines and rough shapes of the original design to find anything he can do to improve upon that.

It needs to be something that Brian would appreciate, of course. Maybe something that reflects his love of space and music, and the way both stretch out endlessly before him in a future of vast possibilities. Freddie's thoughts drift to NASA’s photos of distant galaxies and black holes, bursts of color in even the farthest specks of light, all bright purples and impossible greens. He thinks about Brian’s own Red Special too, the rich color that’s not quite chestnut and not entirely maroon but something unique altogether. And he remembers his own love of yellow and thinks about how way that a splash of sunshine could brighten up the dull beiges of Brian’s flat, and he wonders if he can get away with just covering the tapestry in a rainbow of colors with no discernable pattern to it at all, until love and Pride in equal parts are spilling off the fabric and onto the walls and across the entirety of Brian’s new home.

That’s a ridiculously sappy thought, even for Freddie, and besides he doesn’t really know how big Brian is on the whole Pride thing anyway. He’s certainly never hidden his sexuality but he’s also never flaunted it either, and Freddie doesn’t even really know if Brian’s ever had a male partner not all. Not that it’s any of his business at all and Freddie doesn’t care one whit if Brian ever dates men at all. That doesn’t make him less bi, not in Freddie’s eyes anyway.

“Trying to figure out what to do with that thing?”

Freddie jumps slightly and looks at Brian, who seems to have finished shelving his books - or at least has given up on it for the time being.

Brian chuckles and offers Freddie an apologetic smile. “Sorry, you seemed a little lost in thought there. I thought you might be plotting your plan of attack for the tapestry.”

“I was. Or, well, something like that anyway.” Freddie’s thoughts had at least started with the tapestry, even if they wound their way around to end up in a completely different place. He looks back at where the tapestry is hanging and adds, “I have to be honest though, Roger certainly hasn’t given me an easy canvas to work with.”

He laughs, but when there’s no response from Brian he glances at him again with an inquisitive look. Brian is biting on his bottom, an uncertain look on his face, and it takes a small nudge and a soft “Bri?” from Freddie for Brian to say, “Look, Freddie, I appreciate the offer to brighten it up but if it’s going to be too much work you really don’t have to do anything. I can always tie-dye it or something-”

“Absolutely not!” Freddie shudders at the idea of Brian attempting to dye the tapestry in his kitchen sink. He can only imagine the sort of muddied, awful mess that he would end up with. “No, darling, just give me some time to come up with something and I’ll turn that thing into a true work of art!”

“Well, alright then,” Brian says, finally laughing a little. “I’m not going to argue against owning an original Freddie Mercury art piece.”

Freddie can feel his face start to flush with an embarrassed sort of pride and he quickly clears his throat and stands up. “Anyway, I think that’s enough unpacking for one day, don’t you? What do you say we grab some dinner and-”

The rest of Freddie’s sentence is cut off by the loud noise of Brian’s phone going off somewhere from underneath his stack of long since abandoned schoolbooks and notes. Brian jumps to his feet, but Freddie is closer and it’s quicker for him to find the phone and pass it over.

“It’s Roger. Wonder what he wants,” Brian says as he swipes to answer the call and put it on speakerphone. “Rog, hey! You’re on speaker, Freddie’s here too.”

“Hello!” Freddie calls out with a small wave, even though he knows that Roger isn’t going to be able to see the gesture.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Roger says, “Oh. So Freddie’s still with you, is he?”

Freddie recognizes that note in Roger’s voice, the one that says that this is a sort of calm before the storm - but what he could have possibly done to warrant his friend’s ire today completely escapes him. Even Brian seems at a loss, giving Freddie an unsure look as he says, “Yeah, he’s here. Why, is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, ‘cept for the fact that I’ve been trying to reach you for an _hour_ now,” Roger says, and both Brian and Freddie wince at his tone. “What, did you lose your fucking phone or something?”

“No, I didn’t, and you haven’t texted or called me at all! Ask Brian, my phone hasn’t gone off once!” Freddie says with a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t drag Brian into the middle of this-”

“Yes, please don’t drag me into the middle of this,” Brian mutters in agreement.

“-and _yes_ , I have texted you! You must’ve put your phone on silent or something by mistake.”

“I did not!” Freddie insists hotly. He goes to pull out his phone to prove his point but it’s not in his pocket, and it takes Freddie a moment to realize that he must have set it down with his art supplies when he first walked in. He keeps talking to Roger as he walks around the couch to find his phone, saying, “Honestly, don’t get mad at me just because you probably texted the wrong person or-”

Freddie cuts off as he unlocks his phone and sees a dozen messages from Roger filling his notification bar.

 _ **Roger:** thinking of ordering takeaway do u want anything  
_ _actually when will u be home  
_ _bc if u pick it up on ur way back thru we don’t have to pay the delivery fee  
_ _?????????????  
_ _freddie  
_ _FREDDIE  
_ _fucking turn on read receipts I can’t tell if ur ignoring me or not seeing these  
_ _I could be DYING and u would have no idea!!!  
_ _I’m not dying  
_ _but I am gonna order food and not get anything for u unless u TEXT ME BACK  
_ _…..I don’t like that u aren’t answering calls either_  
 _are YOU dead?  
_ _I’m gonna call brian and if he gets pissed at me its ur fault_

Freddie must have accidentally silenced his entire phone instead of just muting the conversation with Paul and the others, but any embarrassment that Freddie might have felt is immediately replaced with a fond sort of annoyance when he reads the missed texts from Roger. “You fucking wanker, this is what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

It’s lucky that Brian’s apartment is so small because Freddie’s words are easily picked up by the phone, and Roger retorts with, “So you did turn your phone on silent!”

“Not on purpose!” Freddie tells him. “And you weren’t texting me about anything important anyway!”

“Excuse me, this is _very_ important!”

“You were bothering me about takeaway, Rog!”

Brian snorts in amusement and sits down on the couch, still holding onto the phone but much more relaxed now that he knows that there isn’t actually a serious problem at hand. Freddie exaggeratedly rolls his eyes as Roger - who’s almost laughing now himself, the little shit - attempts to double-down on the importance of his missed text messages. Brian grins outright, making no attempt to hide the smile since Roger isn’t there to see it, and Freddie's damn stomach starts filling with butterflies again at the sight.

“Alright, Blondie, I’ll pick up your fucking takeaway but you’re paying for my food too,” Freddie cuts in.

“Text me your order, if you can remember how to use your phone,” Roger says.

“Oh, you-!” Freddie starts but Roger, cackling loudly, hangs up the call. Freddie huffs and says to Brian instead, “I hate him, I honestly do.”

“No, you don’t,” Brian says with a laugh, still grinning at the absurdity of the situation.

“Well, I might after this,” Freddie says as he fires off a quick text to Roger. It’s a lie, of course. Freddie is pretty sure he could never be _really_ angry at Roger about anything - and he knows that Brian knows that. “Oh, did you want to join us for dinner, Brian dear? Come back to ours, I’m sure Roger would pay for your food too…”

But Brian shakes his head and declines the offer, saying, “No, not tonight. I still have some work on my thesis to finish.”

“Well, next time then,” Freddie says, though he can’t say he isn’t disappointed - but then again, he’s always a little disappointed when plans with the rest of the Queen fall through. He loves Roger like a brother but he loves it when the band is together even more, and John can usually be persuaded to come over if Brian is already there.

“Yeah, next time,” Brian agrees. He stands as Freddie pockets his phone and checks that he has his keys and wallet. “Oh, you can- if you want, you can leave your art stuff,” Brian adds just as Freddie leans down to pick his things up. “That way you don’t have to cart it back and forth whenever you come back.”

“Thanks. Just don’t mess with my supplies!” Freddie says, wagging a finger at Brian in mock sternness.

Brian’s smile widens in amusement. “Alright, Freddie.”

“And don’t tell Roger I helped you unpack either,” Freddie continues. “He harps on me enough about forgetting my laundry in the dryer or not putting dishes away, if he finds out that I _volunteered_ to help you I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Alright, Freddie,” Brian says again, this time unable to hold back the laugh that bubbles out with his response.

“And don’t-”

“Freddie!” Brian interrupts, still laughing and still grinning brightly at him. “You should get going, before Roger starts blowing up your phone again. I’ll see you soon enough, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Freddie says. They have a Queen rehearsal scheduled for Tuesday, after all - but Freddie doesn’t mention that because he knows that’s not what Brian is talking about.

Or at least, he _hopes_ that’s not what Brian is talking about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk of mental health issues, particularly anxiety attacks, in this chapter. Brian’s having a bit of a rough day and he gets a little hard on himself here. Please read with caution if you think this may be triggering! 
> 
> (There's also a much more fun little reference to Brian's Desert Island Discs episode in here as well!)

Brian should have known that it was going to be a bad day when he woke up to see that he had three missed calls from his mum. He’s jolted wide-awake in an instant, panic and adrenaline flooding his body as he immediately calls her back. He can’t think of any reason why she’d be calling him early on a Friday morning, unless something was seriously wrong. Maybe she was sick, or his dad was sick, or his dad was _dead_ , or-

“Brian Harold May! So you’ve _finally_ found the time to call your mother!”

There’s a laugh hiding behind her chiding words that tells Brian that there isn’t any emergency at hand and he slumps back against his pillow in relief, though his heart doesn’t stop racing in his chest. “Sorry, mum,” he apologizes. “This week’s been a little busy… you know, with moving and all…”

“I do know, and I want to hear all about it!” his mum says. “Have you gotten settled in alright? Is there anything you need? Oh, you have a whole flat to furnish now, I can have your father send you some money…”

“Mum, no, I’m alright, I promise,” Brian says quickly. His parents already gave him more than they had to help him get through uni. He can’t handle them sending him more money now. “Veronica - John’s girlfriend - she gave me some cleaning things and some extra pans, since the two of them moved in together a few months back and had spares. And Roger and Freddie have brought over some things as well…”

Roger had given Brian a few lamps during rehearsal on Tuesday, which he had gotten for free and had John fix up, and when Freddie stopped by yesterday he had brought with him a small side table which fits perfectly next to Brian’s door. _“_ So you have a place to leave your keys and wallet!” he had said cheerfully, though Freddie had instead immediately started using it to organize his paints and supplies while he worked on the tapestry.

“Well, that was nice of them!” his mum says. “And now that you’ve settled in to your new place, why don’t you come home this weekend? It’s been too long since your father and I have seen you!”

Brian’s stomach lurches uncomfortably. “Ah, well, this weekend isn’t really a good one…” Queen have a show tomorrow night, and Brian doesn’t relish the idea of having to try to socialize with his parents on Sunday morning after that.

“How about next weekend then?” his mum suggests instead.

Brian’s anxiety spikes again, and he can’t help but wince at the suggestion. The truth of the matter is that Queen has shows lined up for most upcoming weekends, when they don't have studio time booked instead, but he doesn’t want to tell his mum that because if his dad finds out then another argument about the band would be inevitable - and Brian is getting really tired of fighting with his dad about that every time they talk.

So Brian exhales slowly, and a little shakily, and says, “Mum, I’m- I’m just real busy these days. You know, with the thesis and- and everything.”

“And everything, hm?” His mum isn’t stupid and she knows exactly what Brian isn’t saying, and when she sighs Brian’s face flushes hot with embarrassment. “Well, when you do have a chance, we’d love for you to come visit.”

“Yeah, I’d like that too,” Brian says, though it feels a little bit like a lie. “Listen, mum, I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting with my advisor, and then the undergrad class I’m teaching, and I- I’ll talk to you more later, okay?”

His mum sighs again and Brian’s stomach twists at the sound. “Okay. But _please_ remember to call sometime, Brian. Your father and I miss you, you know.”

Brian’s day, maybe unsurprisingly, does not get better from there.

For one thing, the anxiety never fully fades away. His mother’s disappointment stays heavy on his mind, weighing him down with guilt even as he tries to go on with his day as normal. He’s off-footed and distracted in everything he does, and every misstep only leaves him more out of sorts.

He forgets the notes he had prepared for his meeting with his advisor, which he ends up late to anyway. The disdain radiating from his advisor as Brian stumbles through apologies and tries his best to answer questions that he doesn’t actually have the information for makes Brian burn with shame. His advisor’s parting, “Try not to waste my time like this again, Mr. May,” only drives Brian’s anxiety and embarrassment even higher.

And it’s just his luck that Friday’s are one of the days when Brian helps teach an undergraduate physics course as well. Brian doesn’t mind teaching; he doesn’t think he could ever be a professor full-time but being an undergrad assistant is an easy way to make a little extra money, and normally he enjoys working with the younger students. But today he wants to be anywhere but here, in front of the students, as he leads them through the day’s lab. He feels like a specimen caught under a microscope, his every movement and word scrutinized until he feels like he’s going to crawl right out of his skin.

The relief he feels when class is finally over is short-lived, as Brian checks his phone and sees a string of missed texts in the Queen group chat.

 _ **John:** I’m gonna miss band practice tonight.  
_ _Ronnie got run over by a cyclist we’re at a &e now._

_**Freddie:** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_**Roger:** holy shit is she ok???_

_**John:** she’s shaken and a little banged up but should be ok.  
_ _we’re still waiting to be seen though. idk when we’ll be out of here._

 _ **Freddie:** don’t worry about practice we’ll just cancel it  
_ _we finalized the setlist on tues anyway_

_**Roger:** and if u can’t make the show tmrw we’ll cancel that too_

_**John:** the show tomorrow shouldn’t be a problem.  
_ _but thanks about practice tonight._

 _ **Roger:** bri ur being awful quiet_  
 _u ok with practice being cancelled?  
_ _speak now or forever hold ur peace mate_

_**Freddie:** he might be in class?? or a meeting with his advisor?_

_**John:** yeah Rog SOME of us still have actual responsibilities…_

_**Roger:** 😡😡😡😡😡_

The texts are over an hour old and even though there’s no way Brian could have seen them before now he still feels a pit grow in his stomach as he reads them over. Even knowing that Veronica is going to be alright doesn’t lessen his anxiety about the situation, and he hands are shaking as he types out a response.

 _ **Brian:** Sorry, I was teaching my undergraduate class. Yes, I’m fine with practice being cancelled, that makes the most sense right now. _ _John, I’m glad Veronica should be okay. Give her my best. -Bri_

Brian shoves his phone in his pocket before seeing if any of the others respond. He’s always too late to the conversation, too wordy in his responses, too formal and too serious and-

And Brian realizes, a few moments too late, that the stress of the day has built up into an unstoppable wave, one that he didn’t see coming until it crashes over him and swallows him whole.

The thing is, Brian is generally doing alright these days, all things considered. He’s been in therapy and on medication, and his bad days are thankfully few and far between. It’s now been so long since Brian was hit by an anxiety attack like this that he didn’t recognize it for what it was, until his whole body is trembling is and his heart feels like a jackhammer inside his chest.

Somehow, Brian makes it back to his flat. He’s learned enough during his time in therapy to keep his anxiety from turning into an outright panic attack, but it’s not enough to make it disappear altogether. He can do breathing exercises to quiet his racing heart until he’s blue in the face but the anxiety is still there, thrumming through his entire body, making his skin feel two sizes too small. It’s claustrophobic and it makes Brian’s entire flat feel claustrophobic too, like the walls are closing in and slowly suffocating him.

He should reach out to someone, he knows that. Roger has told him time and time again that Brian should call him when he gets like this. Roger, who’s seen Brian through too many panic attacks and depressive spells in the past, and who helped Brian find his first therapist back in the early days of Smile. Or he could reach out to Freddie, who he knows is always willing to drop everything for his friends. Or... or...

There’s no one else. Not with John busy with Ronnie, and Brian doesn’t know where his friendship with Tim stands these days. He used to have Chrissie to get him through nights like this but she broke up with him, and she was right to do so. He was always too selfish, too distant unless he needed her and then he was smothering. And what if that’s exactly what he’s doing to his friends now? What if he’s just a burden to everyone in his life? What if-?

Brian’s spiral of dark thoughts is interrupted by a knock on his door. He glances back at it, but standing up to open it feels like too much work for what’s probably just a delivery driver with the wrong address or something like that.

Another knock, this one a bit louder. It’s enough to get Brian standing and moving towards the door with a heavy sigh - but he’s completely taken aback by who’s standing on the other side.

“Freddie?”

It is Freddie, standing there listening to music with one earbud in, and a bag of Chinese takeaway in his hand. “Hi Brian, darling. Mind if I come in?” he asks, though he’s already pushing gently past Brian and walking into the flat without waiting for an answer.

Brian watches as he pulls out his earbud, leaving the cord draped around his neck, and fires off a quick text to someone. “You know, you really need to get a table in here,” Freddie says as he sets the bag of food down on the arm of the couch and sits down to take off his boots. “Or a few ottomans, or _something_ …”

“I’ll get right on that,” Brian says. The response is more automatic than sincere. He’s thrown not only by Freddie’s sudden and unexpected arrival, but by the sunset that he’s only now realizing is starting to shine through his single living room window. He must have lost more time to his anxiety attack than he thought.

It takes Brian a few tries to get the words out, but he finally asks, “What are you doing here, Fred?”

Freddie busies himself with opening the bag of takeaway and pulling out the various containers of food. “Well I know you haven’t had time to go grocery shopping yet and I was in the area so…”

“So?” Brian echoes, when Freddie doesn’t finish that thought. There’s something strange about Freddie’s demeanor, something that Brian’s still-scattered brain can’t even begin to figure out. He’s so used to Freddie being larger-than-life, taking up so much space in Brian’s world, but there’s a hesitancy to him now, a _smallness_ that only serves to ratchet up Brian’s anxiety even more.

“So I brought Chinese food,” Freddie says, sitting down on the couch. “I hope I got your order right, I texted you but you didn’t answer…”

Brian didn’t answer because he turned his phone off after sending that last text to the group chat, too wound-up to face their replies or handle having any other unexpected phone calls come through. Clearly that was a mistake on his part.

Freddie is fiddling with a pair of chopsticks, clicking them together in some almost-familiar rhythm, as if he was in the process of writing a song and not about to sit down to eat. “You weren’t answering any texts, actually. And your phone was going to voicemail. Roger and I might have gotten a little worried.”

Brian’s face goes hot with embarrassment and he wonders if it’s too late to throw his phone in the ocean and disappear to a different continent to die alone of shame. “You shouldn’t have worried,” Brian forces out. “I’m fine.”

Freddie lets him have the lie. “Alright, well that’s good to know,” he says. He smiles at Brian and pats the seat on the couch next to him. “Join me for dinner anyway? Since I’m already here with food and all…”

Part of Brian wants to ask Freddie to leave, so his friend doesn’t need to see Brian in his current state. But in the end he knows that being alone is the last thing he needs right now… and besides, he doesn’t think that Freddie would actually leave even if Brian asked. So Brian nods and sits down next to Freddie, and accepts the container of Chinese food that’s passed over to him.

Dinner ends up being a quiet affair. Brian isn’t quite up for talking - or for eating, if he’s being honest - and Freddie seems content to leave the silence be, rather than filling it up with idle chatter. It should be awkward and it is at first, at least for Brian. He’s waiting for Freddie to say something, to ask him how he is or try to pry into whatever’s bothering him, and every second that passes without Freddie saying anything only serves to set Brian’s teeth on edge.

There’s no pressure from Freddie, though, no feeling that he’s waiting for the right moment to strike, and without expecting it Brian finds himself actually starting to relax for the first time that day. The silence becomes comfortable rather than deafening, intimate in a way that Brian doesn’t think it could be if Roger or John were here instead. _Intimacy_ isn’t a word that Brian has ever used to describe a friendship before, but it’s the only one that Brian can think of to fit the almost affectionate atmosphere that settles over the flat.

Freddie finishes his dinner first, probably because he’s actually eating and Brian is just pushing his food around and hoping that Freddie won’t notice. He tosses his empty containers back in the bag and stands, stretching out with a low groan. His shirt rides up slightly in the process, and Brian’s gaze falls on the exposed sliver of Freddie’s stomach.

“Do you mind if I paint for a little while, since I’m already here?” Freddie asks.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s fine,” Brian says quickly, glancing down at his food and away from his friend. His heart is racing a little again, probably from Freddie startling him by finally breaking the silence, and he knows he must still be really out-of-sorts to have gotten distracted like that.

“Lovely!” Freddie says with an easy smile. “How about some music, hm? Or maybe the telly, isn’t there a new QI on tonight…?”

“There was last night. It’s Friday, Freddie, not Thursday,” Brian tells him, and he surprises himself by laughing a little as he says it.

“Oh, well, music it is then,” Freddie says as he crosses over to Brian’s turntable - because he always chooses Brian’s records over streaming anything, if the choice is left up to him. “Do you have a preference for an album?”

Brian doesn’t think he’s capable of making any sort of decision, not with the state his mind is in at the moment. “The Beatles?” he suggests, because that’s always the safest choice when Freddie is around.

“How about something different for a change?” Freddie says, flipping through Brian’s small record collection. “Ah, maybe this one?” He pulls an album out and quickly sets the vinyl on the turntable before Brian can get a proper look at what he’s picked… but instead of immediately starting it, he hesitates.

“Brian, darling, I just want to say… Well, I know you’ve probably had a bit of a rough day,” Freddie says quietly. “And if you don’t want to talk about it that’s perfectly fine, I’m not going to force you to or anything. But if you do want to talk, I just hope you know that I’m willing to listen.”

And with that Freddie starts the record, flashes Brian a quick smile, and moves over to the tapestry to start pulling out his paints and art supplies.

Brian is left sitting on the couch, completely frozen in place in surprise at Freddie’s unexpected comment long after Brian had been lulled into an, apparently false, sense of security.

Except… maybe there isn’t actually anything false about it at all. True to his word Freddie doesn’t keep pressing the issue, seemingly content to mix paints in silence as he studies the tapestry with a critical eye. Maybe, then, the cozy feeling of the evening doesn’t have to be ruined at all. Maybe Brian can still just enjoy a quiet night in with his friend. Freddie, for his part, certainly seems content enough with the current situation, so maybe Brian can be too.

And whatever new anxiety attack may have been brewing is cut short as Brian finally recognizes the album that Freddie had chosen. It’s been a favorite since his childhood and the record was originally one of his dad’s that was passed down to Brian when he was given the turntable. The music had started off soft but now it starts to swell in a familiar crescendo and Brian smiles, and he can feel himself starting to calm down again despite everything.

“You started the album on the B-side,” he says to Freddie. He shifts on the couch, relaxing against the arm and setting his now ice-cold Chinese food aside on the floor. (He really does have to get a table in here.)

“Of course I did. _Saturn_ is your favorite movement of _The Planets_ suite, isn’t it?” Freddie says as he starts dabbing a light coat of white paint along the lettering in the top right corner of the tapestry.

It is, and Brian’s sure that he’s mentioned that fact before but he’s still surprised that Freddie somehow remembered it. He doesn’t think Chrissie ever knew his favorite songs or albums and he certainly didn’t know her favorites either… though, now that he considers it, he thinks he knows Freddie’s favorite artists - both musicians (Aretha Franklin) and visual artists (Richard Dadd, at least at the moment).

They’re in a band together, though, and Brian supposes that it’s inevitable that they’d learn little things like that about each other during the long hours of rehearsing and traveling to gigs.

And Brian finds that there’s a comfort to being known like this. His mental illnesses usually demand that he keep himself isolated and alone, but Freddie - and the rest of Queen as well, he supposes - have wormed their way so firmly into his life that Brian doesn’t know what he would do if they disappeared on him now. He likes that Freddie knows his Chinese food order and his favorite Holst piece, and now that his anxiety has finally calmed down he finds that he’s even grateful that Freddie came over to check up on him like this.

 _Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age_ comes to an end and _Uranus, The Magician_ starts with it’s bright brassy fanfare, and Brian knows that if he wants to sit here and quietly listen to the rest of his record without saying anything then Freddie will respect that… but he doesn’t think that’s what he wants after all.

“I got a call from my mum this morning,” Brian says suddenly.

Freddie shifts, but the slight cock of his head is only indication that he’s listening to Brian. That helps, actually, that the pressure of his friend’s full attention isn’t directed at him as he talks.

“She just wanted to chat, but it was a bit of a shock waking up and seeing her missed calls,” Brian says. “And she wanted me to come home this weekend but obviously we have that gig tomorrow night, and we have shows coming up most weekends so I don’t know when I’ll make it back out to Feltham. Which I know she’s disappointed about, and if my dad knew I wasn’t coming to visit because of the band he’d be even more disappointed.”

Brian snorts and slumps further into the couch, one arm draping across his eyes and his legs falling over the armrest at the other end. “I let myself get out of sorts because of the phone call, which is the stupidest thing in the world to begin with, and then I wasn’t prepared for my meeting with my advisor and I probably fucked up something in my class this afternoon and I didn’t see John’s text until an hour later-”

“So what?” Freddie cuts in. Brian hears him set his paintbrush down and Brian can perfectly picture the look he must have on his face right now, even if Brian doesn’t move his arm to look at him properly. “Just because you texted back a bit late that doesn’t mean that we’re disappointed in you or hate you or anything else that your brain may be saying right now.”

“I know that.” Because Brian _does_ know that - but knowing something on a rational level isn’t always enough to convince his broken brain that it’s true. “But I still wish that I didn’t ruin entire days because of shit like this.” And softer he adds, without really thinking about what he’s saying, “I wish I was more like you in that, to be honest.”

It’s the small laugh from Freddie that gets Brian finally looking at him, moving his arm slightly and glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Freddie is leaning against the back of the sofa and looking down at him with a smile that makes Brian almost want to hide away from the open fondness on Freddie’s face.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you but I’m not immune to those sorts of problems either,” Freddie says with a faint smile. “I worry that some of my friends - not you three, but some others - don’t really care about me. And I worry about the band all the time. I worry that I’m not doing enough to get our name out there, I worry about my voice before every show… I’ve made myself sick with worry before going on stage more than once. It’s not a fun time.”

Brian’s heart clenches at Freddie’s quiet admittance and the slightly faraway look in his eyes as he remembers those moments of anxiety, and Brian says, softly, “I never knew you got sick before our shows.”

“It doesn’t happen often,” Freddie says. “And I didn’t want to bother you about it when it did.”

Brian swallows down the small, distressed noise that almost escapes at that. “God, Freddie, you wouldn’t be bothering us!”

“Just like _you_ aren’t bothering _us_ if you reach out for a little help when you’re having a bad day,” Freddie tells him.

Brian blinks at him as the point Freddie was making slowly settles in - and then he can’t help but laugh. He finally pushes himself up so he’s no longer slumped melodramatically against the couch and can face Freddie properly, who has a pleased smile on his face now that he knows his point has been made.

“Alright, that’s fair enough,” Brian has to admit. “But if you’re feeling anxious before a gig, please don’t hide it from us anymore.” Freddie immediately opens his mouth to say something but Brian already knows what it’s going to be, and he quickly adds, “And I’ll try to remember to reach out to you on days like this as well. Okay?”

"Okay," Freddie agrees, without hesitation. “As long as you _do_ reach out to one of us. We’re your friends, Brimi, and we worry about you when you shut us out.”

It’s only then that Brian realizes that when he said _you_ he had really meant _Freddie_. He doesn’t even know why he hadn’t thought to include Roger or John in his initial promise, especially considering that he’s already had a similar conversation with Roger in the past. It must just be because Freddie is the only one here now… though he’s not sure that, if he had been talking to someone else, he would have been able to forget about Freddie as easily as Roger and John seem to have slipped momentarily from his mind.

He doesn’t say any of that to Freddie, though. “I’m sorry for making you worry-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Freddie assures him. “After all, we’d be pretty shitty friends if we didn’t worry about each other from time to time!”

Freddie’s eyes lock onto his for a moment, and there’s _something_ there that makes Brian’s breath hitch in his throat, some intensity that Brian has never seen before but that makes it impossible for him to look away. Freddie sways towards him, so slightly that if Brian hadn’t been paying rapt attention he probably would have missed it altogether - and then he pushes himself upright and takes a step away from the sofa, and the moment is broken.

“Anyway, it’s getting late and I need to let this layer of paint dry before I do anything else with your tapestry, so d’you want to watch a movie or something?” Freddie asks suddenly. “I mean, unless you want me to leave, darling, I know you probably didn’t expect to have your entire evening taken over by me…”

“No, stay, please,” Brian says quickly. “I like having you around.”

Freddie looks momentarily surprised by that, but then he laughs a little and says, “Well, I’m glad my company is a welcome distraction, at least.”

It is, but that wasn’t quite what Brian meant. He likes having Freddie around no matter the circumstances, not just when he doesn’t want to be left alone with his anxious thoughts. He’s not sure he’s up to the task of admitting that at the moment, though, so he just says instead, “You’re always welcome here, Fred,” and he hopes that Freddie knows everything he really means by that.


	4. Chapter 4

The issue with Paul comes to a head late one Wednesday evening, and as Freddie watches the tension grow with every new message in the group chat he kicks himself for not trying to fix things sooner.

 _ **Paul:** so u wont go out for drinks when i suggest it but when pete does ur all onboard?  
_ _un fucking believable_

_**Joe:** wow that’s rude_

**_Phoebe:_** _Sorry? I thought you all wanted to meet my coworker but he’s not free in the middle of the week..._

 _ **Paul:** so just bc he won’t go out none of u want to go either?  
_ _christ ur all so boring these days.  
_ _never want to do anything fun anymore._

 _ **Phoebe:** We aren’t students anymore.  
_ _I can’t be out drinking half the night when I work in the morning._

_**Joe:** yeah some of us have responsibilities prenter_

_**Paul:** so ur saying im the problem is that it???_

_**Freddie:** no one’s saying that paul_

_**Joe:** no I am_

That’s the point where Freddie realizes that there’s no saving the conversation. Freddie likes Paul, but he’s always known in the back of his mind that Phoebe and Joe wouldn’t be friends with him if it wasn’t for Freddie… and Freddie thinks he might finally be done trying to make this all work.

He just feels too old for all of this now. He’s only 26 but that still feels _ancient_ when he thinks back to when he was 19 or 20, still a student and going out every night to chase a sense of community that he hadn’t yet realized that he wouldn’t find in the back of a club. Freddie had met Paul on one of his nights out, and then kept meeting him around the gay nightlife that the uni students frequented, and the friendship that developed from there seemed only natural at the time.

But Freddie doesn’t have the stomach for going out every night of the week anymore, even if Paul does. He enjoys the quiet Sunday morning brunches he shares with Phoebe and Joe (that Paul never makes it to), where their conversation isn’t limited to their recent hookups or the latest guy they’re talking to on Grindr. And Freddie’s been spoiled with his friendships with the rest of Queen, friendships that don’t require him to keep the peace and where he isn’t the linchpin holding everything together.

That doesn’t mean that he wants to lose Paul as a friend entirely, though. He’s known him for too long now, and he doesn’t quite know what his life would be like without him around at all anymore.

“Everything alright, Freddie? You’ve been glaring at your phone for the last five minutes,” Roger says suddenly, breaking Freddie’s train of thought.

“Fine,” Freddie snaps.

Roger raises one eyebrow at the terse response. “You sure about that?”

Freddie doesn’t want to get into this with him right now. Roger _hates_ Paul, always has from the first moment he met him, and Freddie knows his sympathy for the mess unfolding won’t go far enough.

“I’m heading out,” he says instead as he pockets his phone and stands up.

“Where are you going?” Roger asks, watching as Freddie jams his feet into his trainers and tries to remember where he left his keys. Roger, knowing what he’s looking for, adds, “Check your jacket, the yellow one you wore when-”

Freddie is already rifling through the pockets and he finds his keys immediately. “Got it, thanks. And just over to Brian’s, so you don’t have to wait up for me.”

They always wait up for each other when one of them is out drinking or hooking up with someone new, just to make sure they get home alright. But Freddie doesn’t want to be drunk right now, he just needs a distraction from the horrible turn his evening has taken - and as much as he loves Roger, he’s not quite the distraction that Freddie is looking for right now.

“Hmm, alright,” Roger hums. Freddie makes the mistake of glancing over at him. There’s a glint in Roger’s eyes that he doesn’t like, one that’s immediately explained when Roger asks, “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time over at his place lately, haven’t you?”

Freddie doesn’t like the way that Roger says that. The almost too-innocent note in his voice sets alarm bells ringing, and Freddie responds with his own flippant tone as he says, “Well true art takes time to complete, darling, and you didn’t exactly give me an easy canvas to work on!”

“ _I_ didn’t give you anything. _You_ came up with this plan to brighten up that tapestry all on your own,” Roger says.

“Well I couldn’t just leave him with that hideous thing hanging in his flat!” Freddie says. He knows what Roger is insinuating and he knows that Roger isn’t going to let this go, but Freddie can’t help but hope that if he keeps deflecting then he'll drop this at least for the time being.

But Freddie should’ve known that he wouldn’t be nearly that lucky.

“Yeah, you could have,” Roger says, and Freddie doesn’t have a response for that.

“I have to get going,” he says instead, though he doesn’t quite look at Roger as he says it.

He hears Roger sigh behind him. “Freddie, you know that if you fancy Brian you don’t have to keep it a secret from me. Especially since you’re shit at keeping secrets at all.”

“Well, that’s good to know, dear, but I don’t fancy Brian,” Freddie tells him.

“Yeah, you know that you’re shit at lying too, right?”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “I am _not_ lying. Just because I’m mature enough to admit that he’s attractive and an absolute sweetheart doesn’t change the fact that he’s my _friend_ , and that’s _it_.”

Freddie wrenches the door open just as Roger says, so quietly that he’s not sure that he was supposed to hear it at all, “You’re a fucking idiot, Freddie.”

There’s something particularly satisfying about slamming the door shut behind him, even though Freddie knows that his neighbors will complain about the noise at this late hour. Right now he doesn’t care. He’s too irritated about everything - his friends fighting, and Roger prying into his private business, and at himself for not being a good enough liar to fool him.

Because Freddie knows that his little crush is only getting worse, instead of going away. He knows that every time he goes over to Brian’s flat that he’s flirting with danger (even if he’s not flirting with _Brian_ like he so desperately wants to be). He knows that one day he’s going to say or do something stupid that he’ll immediately regret, and he knows that the smart thing to do would be to wrap up the tapestry project as quickly as possible and put some distance back into his friendship with Brian.

But Freddie doesn’t want distance. He doesn’t want to lose the intimacy that’s grown between the two of them - an intimacy that cannot become romantic, because Brian isn’t looking for a relationship, and an intimacy that will never turn into something sexual, because Brian doesn’t do casual hookups - but it’s no lesser for those restrictions. All Freddie has to do is keep those things in mind, and he’s sure that his pesky heart will eventually learn to toe the line.

It has to, because Freddie doesn’t know what he’s going to do if his little crush gets even worse than it already is.

These thoughts circle around Freddie’s head and leave him completely distracted as he makes the short walk over to Brian’s flat. It isn’t until Freddie is knocking on the door that he realizes that, yet again, he somehow completely forgot to text Brian before showing up.

Luckily if anyone is bound to still be awake at this late hour it would be Brian, the perpetual night owl. And sure enough Freddie hears Brian call out, “One moment!” from inside the flat and a minute later he opens the door.

“Ah, Freddie. Should’ve known it was you, no one else would be stopping by this late,” Brian says as he stands aside to let Freddie in. He looks tired but the corner of his mouth is just starting to quirk up in the beginnings of a smile and his tone is friendly and teasing, not annoyed at all.

“Sorry I didn’t send a text…”

“‘s alright, not like I was sleeping or anything.” Brian cocks his head a little, studying Freddie as he carefully moves Brian’s acoustic guitar to sit down on the couch. “Everything alright? You seem a little…”

“Annoyed? Infuriated? Pissed off?” Freddie offers up.

Brian laughs softly and takes a seat next to him, setting his guitar loosely in his lap. “Yeah, something like that. You wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe in a bit,” Freddie says. His phone, which had been going off with text alerts almost non-stop for the entire walk over here, has only just fallen quiet and Freddie needs some mental space from this whole mess before he can even think of looking at those messages. He nods towards Brian’s guitar and asks, “Were you working on a song?”

Brian sighs. “Mostly working on fixing a song.”

“ _Son and Daughter_?” Freddie guesses, and Brian nods. “If you’re still up in the air about it, we don’t need to put it on the album…”

“We’ve been playing it for the last two years. Everyone’s going to expect it to be on the album,” Brian says.

“So what? We’ve been playing _Hangman_ all this time too and we’re still on the fence about actually recording that one.”

“I know, but the music for this is good and fits with the rest of the songs we’ve already decided to record. I just think if we can tweak the lyrics so they’re a bit less sexist that would be for the best.”

Brian plays a bit of the guitar part from the song, recognizable even on the acoustic instead of his Red Special. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a conversation like this. Brian had written the lyrics to _Son and Daughter_ in a fit of pique and had grown more and more uncomfortable with the message that the song was sending in the years since then.

“Or maybe it’s just an ironic commentary on the rigidity of gender roles,” Freddie suggests.

Brian gives him an unimpressed look. “Written by a cis white man?”

“You’re still allowed to comment on the affects of toxic masculinity, my dear,” Freddie points out. “ _The world expects a man to buckle down and to shovel shit_ , is still a pretty fucking accurate lyric.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Brian plays a bit more of the guitar part and then asks, “Can you tell me what you think about these lyrics instead?”

Freddie listens to Brian’s proposed changes and offers up his own suggestions, and the two of them quickly lose track of time as they go back and forth over the new lyrics. Writing music with Brian is usually a bit of a fight, and it’s not often that they work together like this. Brian is an inspiration, Freddie’s own personal Jimi Hendrix, but they’re both of them too stubborn for their own good when it comes to their visions for their music. But in moments like this, when they manage to set that aside, something truly magical always seems to happen.

Freddie’s phone chirps in his pocket, loud enough to be heard even over Brian’s guitar playing and Freddie’s own singing as he tries out one of the updated lyrics. Brian’s eyes flick up to look at him but Freddie ignores his phone - even as it chirps a second time, and then a third shortly after.

“Do you want to check that?” Brian finally asks as he stops playing.

“Not really, no,” Freddie says, though he’s kicking himself for not silencing his phone before coming over. He usually does, because he knows that the constant message alerts tend to irritate Brian, but Freddie hadn’t wanted to even look at his phone for long enough to silence it.

“Am I going to have to worry about Roger calling me to look for you, then?” Brian teases.

Despite his rather sour mood, Freddie manages a bit of a smile at that. “No, it’s not Rog bothering me tonight, I’m afraid.”

He sighs, and figures that he might as well get the explanation over with. “My friends are fighting. Well, to be honest, I’m not sure they’re even friends with each other anymore. Paul got in a snit because Phoebe wanted us to get drinks with Jim, his new coworker, this weekend and the whole thing just spiralled out of control from there. I think Joe and Phoebe are finally done dealing with Paul’s nonsense altogether now.”

“Well, Paul does have a very… strong… personality,” Brian says, choosing his words with care. He’s met Freddie’s other friends a handful of times before and Freddie knows that Paul has never made a great impression, but he still appreciates Brian’s attempt to be tactful.

“I know. And I suppose this whole mess couldn’t be helped in the end anyway,” Freddie says. “I just… Well, I don’t really want to check those messages and find out just how bad it all ended up being.”

“Do you want me to check them for you, then?” Brian offers. Freddie looks at him in surprise - he hadn’t been expecting that at _all_ \- and Brian adds, “I mean, only if you’re comfortable with me looking at your messages. I just thought it might help if I skimmed them over and gave you the highlights of what they said?”

“That would actually be great. Thank you.” Freddie unlocks his phone and hands it to Brian. He doesn’t bother telling Brian not to go snooping through his phone while he has it; he knows he would never break his trust like that.

Freddie needs something to do while Brian skims through the texts, so he stands and heads over to get some work done on painting the tapestry. It has been taking longer than Freddie initially thought, but that’s not _entirely_ his fault. Covering up the black lettering isn’t easy without making the entire tapestry dark and drab, and Brian’s apartment is already dreary enough without doing that.

So Freddie had thought to cover the lettering in thin layers of white paint, just enough to make it easier to hide with bright colors down the line, but even that feels like it’s taking an age to accomplish and he’s half-tempted to just coat the entire thing in a thick layer of gesso to turn the fabric into a more rigid canvas and start over with an almost-proper base to work off of.

“Well, they’re all definitely not friends anymore,” Brian says as Freddie starts mixing some paints together. “I, ah- I wouldn’t recommend looking at that group chat either. It got a pretty nasty towards the end there. But Phoebe texted you to see if you wanted to meet Jim at brunch on Sunday. Do you want me to text him back for you?”

Freddie thinks about that for a moment. “Is our gig this weekend out of town?” If Freddie has to leave London on Saturday night he knows that he’ll be in no shape for brunch on Sunday morning.

“No, it’s local. Just at Imperial.”

“Then yes, please, let Phoebe know I’ll be there.”

“Can I ask… I mean, why d’you call him Phoebe?” Brian asks as he taps out a reply. “I know it’s the drag nickname thing, but I don’t think I’ve _ever_ heard you call him Peter.”

Freddie laughs as he picks up a paintbrush and studies the tapestry for another moment. “He’s not the only Peter I know, darling. It just makes things simpler.”

“Makes sense,” Brian agrees. “You also have a text from Paul. He wants to know if you want to get drinks tomorrow night.”

If Freddie is being honest, he’s not sure that he does. Paul splitting off from the rest of the friend group doesn’t change the fact that he’s still only interested in hitting the town in a way that Freddie just isn’t anymore. But Freddie still feels some sympathy for him, and he doesn't want to lose that friendship entirely, so he says, “Yeah, why not. Go ahead and agree to that as well.”

Brian taps out another reply, and then says, “Done. You gonna hang around for a bit longer then?”

“If you don’t mind.” Freddie feels too wired to sleep and he’d rather be here with Brian than anywhere else right now.

“I don’t mind at all,” Brian tells him. “Like I’ve told you before, I like your company.”

The words don’t quite warm Freddie’s heart like they used to. All they do is remind him of Roger’s parting comments, and Freddie’s fierce determination to _not_ let his silly crush get even more out of control than it already is.

He frowns unhappily at the white paint on his palette and decides, screw it, he doesn’t have the willpower to keep patiently working at a base coat this evening. Freddie instead grabs some golden-yellow paint, bright and cheerful and the exact color that he loves the most, and starts mixing that together instead. The top right corner of the canvas has been primed well enough that he can start working on something up there, maybe a bold and sunny geometric design of some sort…

Behind him, Brian has picked up his acoustic guitar again and starts picking away at an unfamiliar song. There's a certain deliberate edge to Brian's playing that tells Freddie that he's still working on this particular composition, and Freddie listens as Brian slowly works out the beginnings of a rather lovely melody. It's a little melancholic, like many of Brian's softer songs tend to be, but there's a simplicity to it as well that's achingly beautiful.

Freddie glances over his shoulder at Brian, just in case he's slipped into a darker mood while Freddie was distracted with his painting, but he doesn't look sad himself - just contemplative, and that's a reassuring sight to see.

"That sounds good so far," Freddie tells him when there's eventually a pause in Brian's playing. "Have you written any words for it yet?"

"Some, yeah," Brian says. He types a quick note on his phone and adds, "I don't know if it's going anywhere though. I'm still trying to figure things out."

"Obviously it needs to go on our next album, darling!" Freddie adds a few more strokes of paint to the tapestry, and then sets his palette aside to lean on the back of the couch as he says, "Tell me about. What's it all about?"

“Well, I’ve been reading _The White Goddess_ by Robert Graves… It’s this long-form essay about pagan mythologies and poetic inspiration, only my song would interpret his “White Goddess” as an idealized woman,” Brian explains.

“Sounds intriguing,” Freddie says. He almost wants to ask if Brian is basing his lyrics on anyone real, but even if he was he knows that Brian isn’t likely to tell him. They’re all a little secretive with the hidden meanings behind their songs, after all.

Brian shrugs. “I think it could fit on the next album, if we ever make it. If we polish up Ogre Battle and you finish Seven Seas and we add this in… I mean, that already sets us on the path for a pretty interesting art rock album right there.” He glances away from Freddie, fiddling with his guitar as he adds, “And maybe in my song she’s a White Queen instead of a White Goddess, and we can play that off of the Black Queen song you’ve been working on as well…”

“Brimi, I love it!” Freddie exclaims, his mind already spinning with the possibilities. “Oh, and we could divide the album into two parts and have a White Side and a Black Side… And when we perform I could be in black and you could be in white - I know Zandra is almost finished with those new tunics, can you imagine how _stunning_ we’d look with you in yours and me in my black leotard? And-”

“And we still need to get Roger and John to agree to this,” Brian interrupts, though he’s laughing a little at Freddie’s excitement. “And we still have our _first_ album to record before this could even happen.”

Freddie sprawls over the back of the sofa with a melodramatic sigh and turns his head to give Brian a wounded look. Brian, still laughing, reaches out to brush Freddie’s hair out of his eyes and Freddie tries not to shiver at the gentle touch. “Don’t look at me like that, Fred. We need to establish ourselves with the music that everyone already knows us for before we start going off the rails.”

“I know, I know,” Freddie grumbles. He’s not really upset at Brian’s practicality but he does _love_ this idea for the second album. He’s absolutely taken with the imagery that Brian laid out, the contrast of Freddie in black against Brian in white, light and dark warring for space on the album and in their performance…

And then Freddie catches a glimpse at the tapestry out of the corner of his eye and he bolts upright again, startling Brian in the process. “Freddie, what-?”

“It’s _perfect_!” Freddie breathes as he stares at the tapestry with renewed interest. “If I leave that corner white, maybe add some gold around the new geometric designs, then fade it out to black in the opposite corner… add some silver, make it delicate and celestial… Brian you are a _genius_!”

Freddie grabs Brian’s face and it’s only the angle between them that results in Freddie kissing Brian’s forehead instead of his mouth. He realizes what he’s done the moment his lips touch Brian’s skin, when Brian inhales sharply and almost - but doesn’t quite - flinch beneath him. Their friendship is built on casual, platonic touches because Freddie doesn’t know how _not_ to be touchy with his friends, but he’s never _kissed_ Brian like this before.

He doesn’t let himself freeze up, though, because he knows that if he makes a big deal out of this then Brian will start freaking out and that’s the last thing Freddie wants right here. So he pulls back and beams at Brian, playing this off as if this is something that he always does.

And as he turns back towards the tapestry, he thinks he catches the briefest glimpse of a small, pleased smile on Brian’s face.

That smile stays stuck in Freddie’s mind, all through drinks with Paul the next night and the hangover that follows on Friday morning. And when Freddie walks into their usual rehearsal space at Imperial College on Friday afternoon he finds that Brian has been thinking about that evening as well… just a different part of it.

Brian is playing the same melody that he was working on before, his White Queen song, and as Freddie saunters into the room he says, “Well, _that_ sounds familiar. Have you been working on that some more?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Brian says. “After we talked it just- it almost flowed out of me, I couldn’t stop writing it.”

Brian flashes him a bright grin that makes Freddie’s heart do somersaults in his chest. Freddie can’t resist pressing close against Brian’s side as he passes by, like he does when they’re performing on stage and Freddie is rocking out next to him. He forgets, for a moment, that they’re not alone in the room until he catches a glimpse of Roger’s knowing smirk from across the room.

Freddie looks away and busies himself with setting his bag down as Roger says, with a pointed note to his voice, “A new song? Want to share it, or is this only for you and Freddie?”

“It’s not just for Freddie and I!” Brian says with a laugh. “I’ll share it once it’s done, or when we finish recording the album and start tackling new songs again…”

“Speaking of which, we _really_ need to pare down the tracklist for the album,” John pipes up. He has his laptop out, probably already pulling up their notes and the demos that they self-recorded ages ago now. “We have our first studio session next week, and Trident isn’t exactly giving us ample recording time. Unless we want to pay for extra time in the studio, we need to be smart about how we go about this.”

“Since we’re all broke as fuck, I vote we start cutting tracks,” Roger says. “Not mine, of course, but I’m sure Freddie wouldn’t mind some of his getting the axe…”

“Oh, fuck off, Rog,” Freddie tells him, without any real heat behind the words.

“If anything, I think some of the old Smile tracks should go. Not Freddie’s stuff,” Brian says.

He ducks his head to adjust one of the tuning pegs on his Old Lady and Roger uses his distraction to raise his eyebrows suggestively at Freddie and motion his head towards Brian. The only thing stopping Freddie from reacting - preferably by throwing something at Roger’s head - is the fact that John’s back is only to Roger, and he would see anything that Freddie did.

And the small, private smile that Brian offers Freddie as he looks up from his guitar may help soothe some of his annoyance as well… but that doesn’t mean it has to mean anything like what Roger is implying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re playing a bit fast-and-loose with the timeline here but just for reference this is set in the modern equivalent of early fall 1972. Freddie is 26 and Brian is 25, and recording of the debut album has obviously been pushed back a bit from when it actually took place. I imagine that rather than having the De Lane Lea demos they self-recorded some tracks themselves, so this is going to be their first “proper” time in a studio. 
> 
> Also Brian is a bit more educated on social justice issues here than he actually was in 1972, thus the discussion about how to handle Son and Daughter. And I know some Queen II songs were written or at least in the works while the debut album was being recorded, so I don’t think it’s too much of a timeline stretch to include White Queen here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts to deal a bit more with Freddie’s (and Brian’s) attempts to find a place in the broader queer community. Their feelings and actions, as well as the descriptions of bits of queer culture, are rooted in the experiences of myself and my IRL friends. I don’t want to claim that these experiences are absolutely universal, but I wanted to flag this as these parts of the story may be more realistic and less “fic tropes” than some readers are looking for.
> 
> In this chapter specifically, there’s discussions of racism and biphobia in the queer community, as well as slight criticisms of hookup culture.

“Look, I’m thrilled that we’re recording this album, really I am, but would it kill Trident to schedule us in the studio at a reasonable hour?” Roger complains as the four of them file out of the building. It’s getting late in the evening now, dusk settling in over London as the last bit of the sunset disappears behind the buildings, and Queen yet again has lost the final hours of their day to the artificial lights and cramped quarters of the recording studio.

“Do you have the money to pay for a better time slot?” John asks. “It’s only once a week for now, it’s really not that bad.”

It kind of is, but Brian doesn’t feel like speaking up and starting a real disagreement on the matter. Trident has been giving them the shittiest recording slots, always late at night unless another artist cancels at the last minute, in which case Queen needs to drop everything and race to studio to cram in an unexpected extra hour of recording. It’s a schedule that’s leaving them stressed and tired and prone to bickering with each other about the tiniest of things.

It doesn’t help either that they’re all perfectionists, and they’re all determined to let their skills stand on their own merit despite the producer trying to convince them to just fix errors in post-production. It’ll be worth it in the end, they’re sure of that, but in the meantime it just makes the whole process more frustrating and more time-consuming than it already was to begin with.

“We should be grateful that they’re letting us do any recording for free,” Freddie says, though in a tone of voice that suggests that he’s not feeling much gratitude himself at the moment. “Anyway there’s more important things to worry about right now, like the fact that I am _starved_. Dinner, anyone?”

“Can’t, sorry,” John says apologetically. “Ronnie and I have plans for tonight, and I’m already running late.”

“And I have plans too,” Roger says.

“With whom, exactly?” Freddie asks suspiciously. He’s glaring at Roger a little, and Brian feels like he somehow missed an important piece of this conversation.

“With Jo,” Roger says smugly. “Meeting up with her for a movie, and then…” He waggles his eyebrows and grins broadly, which is more than enough to get his implication across, and waves goodbye to Freddie and Brian as he sets off down the street with John.

“Well, guess that just leaves us then,” Brian says, though it’s not like this is an unusual situation for the two of them. Between the time Freddie spends at his flat working on the tapestry and all of their responsibilities with Queen, Brian’s pretty sure that he sees more of Freddie than anyone else these days.

Freddie had been glaring at Roger’s retreating back, but when he looks over at Brian he’s smiling and his whole posture relaxes again. “I suppose so,” he says. “Shall we get going then?”

They do, and as they set off Brian knows that they’ll be heading back to his flat even though they didn’t have a discussion about that first. In some ways they don’t need to talk about it at all. They’ve built a routine for themselves over the last few weeks, one that sees Freddie spending most of his evenings working on painting the still-unfinished tapestry while Brian struggles through making progress on his thesis or grading papers for the undergrad class he teaches - before they both inevitably give up on their individual projects in favor of just falling into friendly conversation about whatever topic happens to cross their mind.

Brian loves those evenings and he loves spending this time with Freddie, but he is starting to wonder if they _should_ be talking about this. Freddie has other friends, after all, other obligations and other things he could be doing with his time. The last thing Brian wants is for Freddie to feel like he has to be doing this, if he doesn’t really want to.

So he clears his throat and says, “Ah, Freddie? You know, if you had other plans for the evening I don’t want to- I don’t want you to feel like you have to always come over to my place, I mean.”

“I like spending time at yours though,” Freddie says with a shrug. “And besides, what else would I be doing?”

“You used to do a lot of other things,” Brian says. “Used to be that you’d be out every night when we didn’t have a gig.”

“Brian May, are you saying that I used to be a bit of a tart?” Freddie asks. Brian tries to splutter out something of an explanation or apology, but Freddie just laughs and says, “Oh I’m only teasing you, darling.” And he nudges Brian’s arm and adds, “Look, there’s Nando’s. What do you say we stop and pick up dinner?”

“I have leftovers at home…” And Brian doesn’t really have the money to spare for takeaway. He’s been so focused on Queen lately that he hasn’t been picking up extra shifts in the tutoring center like he had planned, and his bank account is suffering a little for it.

“Well, now you’ll just have leftovers for tomorrow instead,” Freddie says as he loops his arm through Brian’s and starts steering them towards the storefront. “And it’s my treat, don’t you even think about trying to pay!”

“Are you sure you have the money for that?”

“I have credit cards,” Freddie says as he pushes the door open and motions for Brian to go ahead.

Brian laughs as he walks inside. “You do know that you have to pay that back eventually, right?”

“And I will! Just as soon as our album because a raging success and we’re swimming in royalties!”

Brian lets himself get distracted by Freddie’s ramblings about the album and their inevitable success, as they get their food and continue their walk back to Brian’s place. It’s always easy to get distracted by Freddie. His movements are mesmerizing, his voice almost hypnotizing, and just when Brian thinks that he’s learned everything there is to know about his friend Freddie will throw something new at him that turns Brian’s entire world upside.

(Like the recent knowledge of just how _soft_ Freddie’s lips were when they were pressed against Brian’s forehead, but Brian is trying his best not to think about that.)

Freddie is at home in Brian’s flat these days, so much so that Brian wants to crack a joke about just having Freddie move in, except there’s something about that idea that Brian doesn’t actually find amusing at all. His heart races a little when he watches Freddie flip through his records or scroll through his YouTube recommendations to find something to watch, but Brian can’t figure out _why_ , why he’s starting to get all out-of-sorts around Freddie when he’s never been happier than he is in moments like this.

It has to be that lingering fear that Freddie is only here because he _has_ to be here - that once he’s done with the tapestry things will go back to the way they used to be, and Brian will be alone again. It’s a fear that he knows may be entirely irrational, but it’s still one that he can’t shake - especially not when Freddie finishes eating, turns on the kettle, and starts pulling out his paints because he always gets impatient in the 90-or-so seconds that it takes for the water to boil.

It’s not like Freddie spends his entire time painting when he’s at Brian’s flat. They share dinner together, they watch movies, they trade ideas for new songs… some nights fly by without Freddie picking up his paints once, and he always leaves with an apology that he didn’t make any more progress and a promise to be back soon. And Brian always wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to apologize but he doesn’t know how to explain that he stopped caring about the thing that set them down this path a very long time ago.

Brian steps into the kitchen to handle the tea, because he knows Freddie is prone to forgetting about things like that. There’s two cups already set out on the counter and enough water in the kettle for both of them, and Brian’s whole chest _aches_ with fondness for Freddie and their friendship right now.

“Here you go,” he says as he sets Freddie’s cup down on the small end table that Freddie has thoroughly commandeered for his painting supplies - not that Brian minds, he’s fine with keeping his keys and wallet in his bedroom instead of right next to his front door.

“My hero,” Freddie says, batting his eyes at Brian.

Brian can feel his face flushing slightly, no doubt from the steam of his own tea as he takes a slightly too-large gulp which scalds his tongue and his throat as he forces it down.

Freddie, who always makes Brian feel a bit like a fumbling oaf in comparison to his refinedness, takes a much smaller sip of his tea. His eyes widen slightly in surprise and he has a small, pleased smile starting to tease at the corner of his mouth as he says, “You made it _perfectly_. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There’s more that Brian wants to say than just that but the words don’t seem to want to come out. And even though there are a dozen other things Brian could be doing - working on his thesis, or grading papers, or tidying up around his flat - he finds himself staying perched on the arm of the sofa, mulling over the questions and anxieties rattling around in his brain while he watches Freddie paint.

Though, if he’s being honest, he soon ends up simply distracted by Freddie yet again.

His vision for the tapestry is slowly starting to take shape, or at least the first half of it is. The tapestry has been split in two diagonally, with the upper portion primed with a white base coat and Freddie now perfecting the golden geometric design that he’s been working on for the last two weeks. The pattern starts in the top right corner and branches down across the tapestry, rays of painted sunshine that move with the fabric and break up the parts of the black lettering that couldn’t be completely obscured by the white paint.

The design reminds Brian so much of Freddie. There’s really no other way to describe it. It’s Freddie’s brightness and radiance spilling out across the tapestry in his favorite shade of yellow. Even unfinished like this it lightens up Brian’s flat, just like Freddie himself does every time that he’s here. Brian almost wishes that he would paint the entire tapestry like this, instead of blending it down into an inky blackness in the bottom portion like Brian knows he’s planning. There’s enough darkness in Brian’s own life sometimes; he’s not sure he needs it hanging on his wall as well.

“Darling, you _know_ how much I love an audience, but I can practically hear you thinking over there,” Freddie says. He glances back at Brian and asks, “What’s rattling around in that big brain of yours?”

Too much, like there always is.

He’s thinking about the tapestry, and what’s going to happen when it’s finally finished and there’s no reason for Freddie to be spending so much time over here anymore. He’s thinking about how happy he is when Freddie is around and how he doesn’t want to ever lose that, and he’s starting to feel the beginning pricklings of guilt again because what if Freddie doesn’t feel the same? What if he can’t wait to finish his project, so he can return to his normal routine again?

He’s thinking that he should have been clearer when he tried to broach the subject with Freddie earlier, because despite Freddie’s flippant comment about not having anything better to do Brian still can’t help but feel like he _must_ have something else he could be doing with his time than just this. And Brian wonders if it’s worth trying to broach the subject again, or if he would only be annoying Freddie by mentioning it for a second time that day.

There’s more that’s been on Brian’s mind lately, though, more dangerous thoughts that he finds himself contemplating in the moments when his attention wanders. He finds himself thinking about Freddie kissing his forehead more than he probably should. He knows that the gesture meant nothing; it was a brief moment of exuberance from Freddie, just another extension of the friendly touches that he gives to all his friends, but Brian can’t stop thinking about it nonetheless.

It’s as if Freddie’s kiss has made him realize how starved he is for that sort of gentle intimacy and Brian finds himself _wanting_ for things that he rarely lets himself want. He wants to be touched, he wants to be kissed, he wants to lose himself entirely in another person… and sometimes, yes, he finds himself thinking about what it would be like if _Freddie_ was that person.

But it only makes sense that Brian would think of him, since they spend so much time together these days. That doesn’t mean that Brian really wants him like- like _that_.

“Brian?” Freddie prompts after the silence stretches out for a moment too long.

There’s too much rattling around in Brian’s thoughts, and too much that he can’t share with Freddie. Really, there’s only one safe option he can go with here. “I guess I’m still thinking about what we were talking about before.”

Freddie tilts his head as he thinks back over the evening. “And what would that be exactly?” he asks when he doesn’t immediately recall what conversation Brian is referring to.

“The bit where I told you that you don’t have to come over here all the time if you have other plans,” Brian tells him. Freddie is frowning, clearly heaving not expected that answer, and Brian tries to clarify, “I suppose… Well I know you said earlier that you liked spending time over here, but I just wanted to make sure that you really don’t mind that you’re still working on the tapestry. Because you don’t have to keep at it, if you don’t want to.”

Freddie sets down his palette and paintbrush so he can face Brian properly. “I really don’t mind working on it, I promise. I’m quite enjoying myself and I _do_ enjoy your company, as long as you enjoy mine.”

“Of course I do!” If anything Brian enjoys Freddie’s company too much, and maybe that’s exactly his problem. He wouldn’t be having all these thoughts about Freddie if he didn’t enjoy his friend’s company as much as he does.

“Then why are you so worried about this?” Freddie asks. “Talk to me, Brimi. What’s really on your mind here?”

Brian looks down at the mug of tea in his hands and tries to choose his next words with care. “You laughed it off earlier, but, well, you _did_ use to go out a lot more than you do now. And I’d hate for you to have stopped because of me.”

He also knows that some of Freddie’s other friends, particularly Paul, still ask Freddie to go out clubbing with him. But Brian isn’t entirely sure where the situation with Paul and the others stands after the falling-out they all had, and he doesn’t want to risk upsetting Freddie by mentioning it now.

“It’s not because of you, Brian,” Freddie assures him. “I’ve just gotten tired of the whole circus of going out on the town, I suppose.”

“Can I ask why?” An uncomfortable look crosses Freddie’s face and Brian quickly starts backtracking. “I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business…”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” Freddie says quickly. “But I’m not having this conversation standing up and with you sitting on the arm of your sofa like that.”

Freddie picks up his tea and gently grabs Brian’s arm and pulls him upright. Brian, a little uncertain but mostly just bemused, allows himself to be led around the sofa and pushed down onto the seat. Freddie takes a seat next to him, sitting cross-legged on the cushion and facing Brian directly.

“Let’s see, what’s the best way to explain all of this…” Freddie taps his fingers against his mug of tea as he thinks over what to say. “Well, I guess it starts when I came to London for uni. All I wanted to do was explore the gay scene here, because it was something I was never allowed to experience before when I was living at home.”

That’s definitely something that Brian knows a thing or two about himself.

“And I wanted to experience _everything_ ,” Freddie continues. “Going out to gay clubs, drinking and dancing with other men… I had never even flirted with a boy while I was living in Feltham, and here I was meeting men who were actually interested in me! And, of course, I went home with a few of them to have a good time… It was everything I wanted, at least when I was 19 or 20. But I’ve come to realize since then that I don’t just want hookups and nights out on the town. I want to find a community of my own. I want to find _love_.”

There’s a yearning in Freddie’s voice that makes Brian’s heart ache to hear. It reminds him too much of everything that Brian himself has been wanting as of late, and he knows how much it _hurts_ to feel like those things are unobtainable. He wants to reassure Freddie, but his friend keeps talking before he can say anything.

“Anyway, I did find my own little community eventually, with Joe and Phoebe and Paul and everyone else that I actually managed to befriend on my nights out. And, of course, with you and Roger - and John too, because you have to have at least one token straight friend, don’t you?”

Brian laughs at that. “Don’t let John hear you call him the token straight friend.”

“Oh please, John is always the first one to joke about how he’s the only straight man in a band called Queen.” Freddie takes a sip of his tea, hiding his amused smile behind his cup. “The point is, I’m happier with all of those friendships than I think I ever was going out and getting wasted and trading blowjobs in the toilets with a stranger. I mean don’t get me wrong, that _was_ fun at the time - but it’s not what I want in my life anymore, I think.”

“And love?”

“Hm?” Freddie had started to zone out a little, staring off into the middle distance between the two of them as he got lost in his thoughts. Now, though, he focuses back on Brian as he asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

“You said you wanted to find community and love,” Brian says. “Please don’t tell me you’ve given up on the second half of that.” Freddie had spoken those words with such longing only moments before, and Brian doesn’t think he could bear to find out now that Freddie has abandoned all hope of finding love.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling! Of course I haven’t!” Freddie says, and Brian breathes a small sigh of relief. “I just think I need to find a new way to look for love, that’s all. I’ve had fun with the men I’ve met in bars and clubs, and I’ve dated a few of them over the years, but… Well, there’s always that uncertainty with hookups like that, isn’t there? That he’s not looking for a relationship, or that you won’t have anything in common in the morning…”

“Aren’t there apps you can use to meet people, though?” Brian asks. Admittedly he doesn’t have any personal experience with them, but even he knows about the existence of Grindr and Tinder.

“Meet people, sure, but they’re still just looking for hookups half the time.” Freddie scoffs a little and adds, “Or they’re a fucking bigot, or just too _boring_ for me to waste my time on.”

“A bigot?” Brian blinks. He hadn’t been expecting _that_ response. “I’m sure not everyone is a bigot, Fred.”

“Oh come off it, Brian. You have to have seen the rallying cry of _No blacks, no asians, no fats, no femmes_ on every fucking profile,” Freddie snaps, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Then they message me and I don’t know if they haven’t realized that I’m not white or if they’ve decided that I’m light enough that they don’t care. Or I have to worry that when they see me in person they’ll decide that I’m not masc enough for them. It’s the same problems I run into in the clubs, only at least they’re upfront about their racism on Grindr and Scruff.” He shakes his head and adds, “No, I think I’m fairly finished with those sorts of apps as well.”

Brian feels like someone dropped ice in the pit of his stomach. “I- I haven’t seen those profiles-”

“You must have-”

“I haven’t, because I’ve never been on any of those apps,” Brian forces out, before Freddie can finish saying whatever he was going to say.

And Freddie, who had clearly been gearing up for some impassioned speech, immediately shuts up. He just shifts a little instead, tightening his grip on his mug of tea, and stays quiet as Brian continues talking.

“I’ve never been on Tinder or Grindr and I’ve never even heard of Scruff before. And I’ve never been in a gay club, or any nightclub at all for that matter, and I’ve never hooked up with a guy and- and I’m 25 and I don’t even know _how_ to have a hookup with someone!”

“Tell someone where you’re going or who you’ll be with, use condoms, and just have fun with it?” Freddie says. The joke is weak, though, and it falls completely flat.

“I’m being serious, Freddie,” Brian says. He hates talking about this, hates admitting that he’s so inexperienced and unfamiliar with queer culture, but if Freddie can share his own struggles then Brian can at least explain this to him.

“Apart from you and Roger, I don’t have other queer friends. I barely know how to talk to women, but I have _no_ idea how to talk to men that I’m interested in. You said that you’ve finally found a community of your own, but I don’t have one at all. I don’t- I feel like I don’t even have a right to my identity, sometimes.”

“No- Brian, no, no.”

Freddie goes to set down his tea, clearly remembering a moment too late that Brian still doesn’t have a table in his living room. He huffs and instead balances the tea precariously on the arm of the sofa behind him and moves closer to Brian, reaching out and resting one hand on Brian’s knee.

Somehow, even through Brian’s jeans, Freddie’s touch seems to burn.

“You have every right to call yourself bi, Brian,” Freddie says firmly. His eyes are locked onto Brian’s, so there’s no escaping the seriousness or intensity of his words. “It doesn’t matter if you ever have a relationship with a man or not, that doesn’t change who you are.”

“Not everyone would agree with that, though.” And the longer Brian goes without dating a man, the more he feels that he’s lost his chance for ever doing so. It’s one thing to have never been with another boy when he was 18 or 19, but it feels very different to be 25 and still not have any experience in that area.

“Yeah, well, the ones who don’t agree can go fuck themselves,” Freddie tells him. “Anyone, of any gender, would be lucky to have you as a partner, and if they get hung-up about you being bi or you not having the right experience, well, then they’re just an arsehole and not worth your time anyway.”

Freddie is so serious and earnest, and Brian doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s _not_ a good partner - more than one ex-girlfriend has told him that in the past - and his instinct is to deny everything that Freddie is saying, though he knows that Freddie wouldn’t let him get away with that.

“Thanks, Fred,” he says softly. “But, honestly, anyone would be lucky to have _you_ as a partner too. You’re kind and thoughtful and- and-”

And perfect, honestly, though Brian cuts himself off before he can say that aloud.

Freddie really is the exact sort of partner that Brian wishes he could find, though he knows that no one in the world can really compare with Freddie. That’s why Brian knows he’s in danger, with all his stray thoughts of kissing Freddie or having him move in… It’s safe for Brian to project his idle fantasies on Freddie now, because Freddie already knows so many of the worst parts of him and he would never judge Brian for his lack of experience with him. But he can’t have Freddie, not like that, not really, and Brian is only setting himself up for disappointment if he tries to compare anyone else to him.

“Both of us are quite the catch, Brian May,” Freddie says. Brian can hear the teasing note in his voice even without looking at him. “And with any luck we’ll both find love one day, on our own terms.”

Brian certainly feels like he’s going to need all the luck in the world to find love for himself.

“And in the meantime,” Freddie continues. “Let me take you out.”

Brian’s head jerks back up as he stare at Freddie in surprise. “ _What?_ ” he squeaks out. He knows how his mind interpreted that offer, but surely Freddie doesn’t mean...

“You said you’ve never been out to the gay clubs and I know my way around nearly all of them, so we can make a night out of it! We can have a few drinks, go dancing…” Freddie bites his lip, a little nervously, and adds, “Only if you want to, of course. But I think it would be fun and it would give you a chance to- well, to break out of your shell a little bit.”

Brian bites his bottom lip and considers the offer. Going to Wetherspoons or some other pub with friends is about the extent of what he can typically tolerate for a night out. Going to a proper _club_ feels like a daunting idea. But he _does_ want to see what it’s like, to be a part of that larger community for at least one night… and, maybe, if he’s brave enough, he can try his hand at chatting up another man as well.

He might even manage to take his mind off Freddie, for a little while at least, if he does that.

“Yeah, alright,” he says at last. Freddie grins, and Brian reflexively starts to smile in response. “Let’s do it. Let’s give it a go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning on this chapter for boundaries being ignored and unwanted touching (towards Freddie, though not by Brian). Freddie also worries that he's violated Brian's boundaries (but as later chapters will reveal, he has not). Both moments are small and occur towards the end of the chapter. The club in this chapter is based on one that I used to go to here in the States, not any particular UK establishment.
> 
> Those of you familiar with Freddie's IRL partners may recognize some new names in this chapter. I've borrowed the names but I know very little about the actual people, so they'll be written more as OCs than anything else. Also there may be a bit of a delay with the next chapter, so hopefully this one being longer than usual will make up for that!
> 
> Finally, in case you're interested... [Brian's outfit](http://queenlive.ca/queen/live%20pics/84-09-27_Stuttgart_12.jpg), [Freddie's outfit](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D3r1opFWkAATkhD.jpg:large) (+ a white shirt), and [Roger's outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/87/9f/83/879f834474356126ef9e7be3b5338616.png).

It takes Roger less than a day to get wind of Freddie’s plan for a night out on the town with Brian.

“So you’ve asked him out on a date, then?” Roger says a wide, shit-eating grin on his face that he makes absolutely no attempt to hide.

“It’s not a fucking date, honestly,” Freddie says hotly. “He said he’s never been out to the clubs, so I offered to take him to one. That’s it.”

“Right. Just the two of you, going out for drinks and dancing together…”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment idea!” Freddie says. “That doesn’t make it a date, and if you want to come along too you are more than welcome! As long as Jo wouldn’t mind, of course.”

Freddie is expecting that to be a trump card in this argument, so he’s surprised when Roger instead laughs and says, “Jo and I had fun but we both agreed that we didn’t want to commit to anything right now. So I would _love_ to join you and Brian, you know how much I like clubbing.”

“Wonderful,” Freddie says, and he tries not to grit his teeth as he says it. “In fact, why don’t we invite John as well? Make a proper band night out of it all.”

“That sounds brilliant, yeah,” Roger agrees easily. “And with the two of us there we can definitely make sure you behave around Brian.”

“Of course I’m going to behave around him! What the fuck do you think I’m going to do, force myself on him the moment I get a few drinks in?” Freddie snaps.

“Don’t be an arse, of course not _that_. But you’re forgetting that I’ve been out drinking with you before, and you’re an affectionate drunk to say the least.” Roger smirks and adds, “And you can get downright handsy with the men you flirt with, and since you’ve already admitted that you find Brian attractive…”

“Oh, you absolute wanker!” Freddie grabs a pillow from next to him on the sofa and throws it at Roger, who is now openly cackling across the room. Roger manages to dodge the pillow but falls off his chair in the process, and Freddie thinks that serves him right for continuing to be such a prick about this.

Because that’s what Freddie is annoyed about here, really. He doesn’t care about Roger, and possibly John, going out with them as well because he _wasn’t_ intending to have a date with Brian, no matter what Roger says. No, it’s _why_ Roger wants to come along, his insinuating comments and the jokes that are starting to hit a little bit too close to home, that has Freddie wanting to grind his teeth in frustration.

Brian, of course, has no problem with the change in plans – but then again, he is blissfully unaware of both Roger’s teasing and the uncomfortable truth that Freddie _does_ find him unfairly gorgeous and might not say no if Brian ever made the first move. Brian does, however, ask, “Are we keeping this just in the band then, or…?”

“Why, you have a special someone you want to ask along?” Roger laughs. Freddie knows that Roger is joking, but the thought of Brian bringing a partner out with them makes his chest burn hot with some emotion that he doesn’t want to look too closely at.

Brian rolls his eyes in mostly-fond exasperation. “No, of course not, but I didn’t know if you or Freddie were going to be inviting along other people.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no,” Roger says. “And I don’t think Freddie-”

“Actually, I’d _love_ to ask my other friends to come out with us too,” Freddie cuts in sweetly. “If you all don’t mind, of course.”

John and Brian shake their heads. Freddie is expecting Roger, at least, to put up a fuss about the possibility of Paul joining them – and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t at least partially why he was doing this in the first place. It’s a bit of a bitchy move on his part, but he thinks it’s deserved after Roger meddled in these plans in the first place.

Instead, though, Roger just grins and says, “Great. The more the merrier, after all.”

Freddie is reminded of Roger’s teasing comment about more people making it easier to keep him in line, and his smugness immediately turns sour. Roger knows what he’s thinking about, of course, and his grin just grows even wider.

“You sure it’s not a problem if I come along too? Since I’m straight, I mean,” John asks, breaking the silent battle between Freddie and Roger.

“Nah, no one gets huffy about a few straight people showing up with their friends. It’s only a problem if there’s crowds of ‘em out at the gay clubs,” Roger says as he turns back to John. “’sides, it’s not like you’re one to throw a fit if a bloke hits on you, so you’ll be fine.”

John laughs and says, “No, I definitely won’t do that.”

“So it’s settled then. We can meet up at Freddie’s and my place beforehand and head over to Vice Versa together,” Roger says. “When is everyone free?”

“We don’t have a show next Saturday. How about then?” Brian says.

Freddie shakes his head. “Saturday’s are no good for Vice, they’ve moved their drag show to the weekend now and it takes over the whole dance floor for most of the night.” And the drag shows tend to attract the aforementioned crowds of straight people more than anything else, though Freddie doesn’t feel the need to point that out.

“Friday then?” John suggests. “We aren’t booked for studio time and I think we’d be alright skipping rehearsal at this point…”

No one has any objections, and so with Roy returning from his brief break to pull them back into recording they finalize plans for Friday night. Freddie makes the arrangements with his other friends later; Paul doesn’t commit to meeting up with them, only confirms that he’ll be out at one club or another on Friday, but Joe and Phoebe are eager to go out again and Phoebe promises to try and convince his coworker, Jim, to come out as well.

It’s not quite the night out on the town with Brian that Freddie had originally envisioned, but maybe it’s better this way. Brian can get the full experience of going out with a large and exuberant group of people, and there’s no chance that any of this can be misconstrued as a _date_ now.

Roger disappears early on Friday morning, well before Freddie even gets out of bed. He has no idea where the blond is and isn’t really concerned about it either. They look out for each other, of course, but they don’t start to worry until it gets late or if one of them is out with a stranger. Freddie assumes that Roger went to pick up their earnings from the consignment shop or to some modeling gig that he failed to mention; it isn’t until it starts to creep into the late afternoon that Freddie gets curious enough to finally text him.

_**Freddie:** where r u?_

_**Roger:** at bri’s_

Freddie stares down at his phone, a sinking feeling of dread starting to grow in the pit of his stomach.

_**Freddie:** why???_

_**Roger:** helping him get ready for tonite 😜_

“Oh no,” Freddie mutters to himself. Whatever Roger is up to here, he knows it’s not anything good.

John arrives first for their evening out, even before Freddie has finished getting dolled up himself, and the first thing he asks as he looks around the small flat is, “Where’s Roger?”

“Helping Brian get ready, _apparently_ ,” Freddie says, with a bit more of a huff than is necessary – though, that’s just because his makeup is being difficult tonight. Not because he’s still pissy about Roger’s meddling.

“Huh. Thought you would’ve been doing that.”

Freddie glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just, with how much time you’re spending with him lately, I thought you would’ve already had an outfit planned for him and everything,” John says. “Or did he want to surprise you and that’s why Roger’s helping him out?”

“Why on earth would he be surprising me?”

“Because he fancies you. Doesn’t he?”

Freddie jerks as John’s words cut straight through his defenses. His eyeliner is completely cocked up now, but he doesn’t even care about that because-

“What are you-? No, of course he- Brian doesn’t-” Freddie flounders, trying to make sense of what John is saying. Brian doesn’t _fancy him_ , that’s absolutely ridiculous!

John shrugs and says, “He gets this look in his eyes, sometimes, when he looks at you. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No, I most certainly have not!” And Freddie has spent enough time looking at Brian that he knows he would have seen something like that, if it was really there at all.

“Hm,” John hums, thoughtful. “I must be mistaken then.”

He is mistaken, Freddie is sure of that, but that doesn’t stop Freddie’s hand from shaking as he wipes away his messed-up eyeliner and tries to draw it on again. Brian isn’t interested in Freddie like that, and even if he was… Even if he _was_ interested, it wouldn’t change anything.

Brian doesn’t do one-night stands, and Brian isn’t looking for a relationship right now.

Freddie can’t let himself forget that, and he can’t let himself get distracted by hypotheticals or daydreams or whatever tricks of the light John thinks he sees in Brian’s eyes. He’s already playing with fire by admitting that he finds Brian attractive. He can’t admit to anything else, or he’ll risk ruining one of the best friendships he’s ever had.

Freddie has almost finished fixing his makeup when the door to the flat is thrown open and Roger comes strutting in. “Gentlemen! May I present, tonight’s man of honor? Mister Brian Harold-”

“Roger, shut up!” Brian says, laughing, as he walks in behind Roger.

Roger splutters out some protest at Brian ruining the moment, but Freddie barely hears it over the blood pounding in his ears at the sight of Brian. He’s dressed all in white, from his sinfully tight trousers to the utilitarian vest he has as his outermost layer, but what’s got Freddie’s mouth going dry is the cut-off vintage shirt he’s wearing underneath that leaves his sinewy arms on full display. Freddie has never wanted to touch anything as much as he wants to touch the bare skin of Brian’s arms right now.

“Freddie, how do I look?” Brian asks. He’s still smiling but there’s a bit of a nervous edge to it now, as if he really does care about Freddie’s opinion on his outfit.

“You look amazing,” Freddie tells him honestly. It comes out softer than he intended, and it’s almost too sincere – too _tender_ \- without his usual effusive _“darling!”_ tacked onto the end.

Brian ducks his head in embarrassment, but Freddie can see the faintest hint of a smile teasing around the corners of his mouth. It looks too much like the smile he had after Freddie kissed his forehead, the smile that Freddie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for a single moment over the last few weeks, and his heart starts to race a little even before Brian says, “Thanks, Fred. You look great too, you know.”

Brian glances back up at him as he says it and for a moment there’s a flash of _something_ in his eyes – something that Freddie would have missed entirely, if it wasn’t for John’s earlier comment.

It throws Freddie for a second and his response comes a beat too late. “Don’t I always?” he says with a forced laugh as he cants one hip out and strikes a pose. And before Brian can say anything else in response, Freddie adds, “Since we’re all here at last, let’s have a few drinks before we head out! Rog, why don’t you help me with that…”

He grabs Roger by the arm and drags him out of the room and into the kitchen, which he can only hope is far enough away that Brian and John won’t hear this conversation.

“Everything alright, Freddie?” Roger asks, his amusement clear in his voice.

“You’re up to something,” Freddie hisses. “I know you are, and whatever it is it’s not- I’m not-” He throws his hands up in frustration. “Are you trying to get me to sleep with Brian and ruin the band? Is that what you want to happen here?”

“Okay, first of all, you’re being a bit melodramatic, even for you,” Roger tells him. “Even if you sleep with Brian, Queen won’t breakup because of it. I won’t let that happen, you’re too committed to what we’re doing here to let that happen, and Brian couldn’t live with himself if he’s the reason this all falls apart now.” Roger’s lips quirk up in a small smile and he adds, “And I think John would kill you both if you let your personal drama get in the way of our music.”

“That’s not the point, Rog! Even if I asked him, Brian still doesn’t do one-night stands!” Freddie snaps. “I could ask him but he would never go for it, so why are you making such a fuss about me being a little bit attracted to him? I’ll get over it eventually, I always do.”

“But you _aren’t_ getting over it,” Roger says. “And _that_ is the point to all of this. You keep telling yourself that you only want to shag him and you’re driving yourself crazy with the lie.”

“It’s not-”

“If it’s not a lie, then you wouldn’t have any problem with Brian taking a guy home if someone at the club catches his eye,” Roger interrupts. “Right?”

That thought is absolutely intolerable. Freddie tries not to show how much he hates the idea of Brian going home with anyone else, but he can’t quite stop himself from pursing his lips in distaste and trying to avoid the root of what Roger is saying. “He would never, though, so it doesn’t matter-”

“Things change, when you’re dancing in a club and cute guys are flirting with you,” Roger says. “Brian could find himself a partner tonight, and what are you going to do if he does? If you really don’t fancy him, if it is just that he’s attractive and around so you’ve found yourself looking at him a bit more than usual, then it doesn’t matter if he finds someone else.”

Roger’s right. It doesn’t matter… or at least it _shouldn’t_ but Freddie’s guts feel like they’re in knots at the very idea of it all. He hates that, and every part of him wants to shy away from digging deeper into _why_ he hates that so much, but Roger won’t let him avoid this any longer.

“All I’m saying, Freddie, is that you need to think about what you really want here and what you’re going to do about it. And if I have to put Brian in tight trousers and a tank top for you to do that…” Roger shrugs, and flashes Freddie a grin. “Well. You can thank me for it later.”

That startles a laugh out of Freddie, despite the way that his stomach still feels twisted in knots. “He does look amazing in that outfit. He’s going to get eaten alive at the club you know that, right?”

“I know. But he has all of us to look out for him on his first night out at Vice,” Roger says. He gives Freddie a quick once-over and adds, “You look great too, by the way. Forgot to tell you that earlier. Are those new?”

Freddie runs his hands down his red braces and the matching red-and-white shorts that he’s wearing. “Vintage, and I’ve had them for a while. But I’m not on the pull tonight, so I thought I’d dress up a bit.”

If he was going out to look for a partner to take home he’d dress in something simpler, and something a bit more masc. He’s learned the hard way how seriously some men take their “no femmes” preference, and he’s learned to tone down his style if he wants to find some fun for the night.

Roger knows all of that without Freddie needing to explicitly say any of it, though it’s not something he has to deal with quite to the degree that Freddie does. Roger has the sort of twinkish looks that not many men can achieve – certainly not Freddie, with the body hair he refuses to shave and the dark hair he’ll never bleach blond. Freddie would be jealous of the attention that Roger so easily receives, if he didn’t know how much his friend hates the assumptions that so many men make about his preferences based on his looks alone.

“What about you?” he asks Roger, nodding towards his outfit. “You’re looking rather dolled up, Blondie. What are your plans for the evening?”

Roger laughs and shakes out the vest that he’s wearing over his bare chest – unlike Freddie, who conceded a little to modesty and is wearing a slightly too-short white shirt under his braces. “My only plans for the evening are to keep you and Brian out of trouble. Anything else will just be a bonus.”

“I’m not going to get into trouble-!”

“How long does it take you two to grab the vodka and a couple of shot glasses?” John asks as he pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen. He gives Roger and Freddie a critical – and slightly knowing – look. “Unless there’s something else you two are doing in here?”

“Rog was causing trouble, as usual,” Freddie says as he gives Roger a friendly, gentle shove and reaches behind him to pull out four shot glasses while Roger fishes the half-empty bottle of vodka out of the fridge.

“As long as he causes trouble here and not at the club,” John says as the three of them traipse back into the living room, where Brian has sprawled out on the couch.

Freddie’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him again, and he tries not to stare at the wide spread of his legs and the bulge he can absolutely see straining against his tight trousers. _Fuck_. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the night with Brian looking like _that_.

 _Brian doesn’t do one-night stands. He’s not looking for a relationship_ , he repeats to himself as they down their shots and stumble, laughing, out of the flat to head towards the club – but the usual mantra feels hollow after Roger’s conversation, and the flips his stomach is doing have nothing to do with the vodka and everything to do with the bright grin on Brian’s face.

Vice Versa is, if Freddie is being honest, a bit of a shithole. It’s small and crowded, with limited drink options and a dance floor that is always a bit sticky underfoot. But it has its own sort of charm nonetheless, and more than one regular waves to Freddie or shouts a friendly greeting to him as he leads the way into the club.

Joe and Phoebe are already there, at a table between the dancefloor and the bar, so no matter where any of them go they’ll never lose sight of anyone. Jim is there too, and as Freddie introduces him to the rest of Queen he’s pleasantly surprised by how well he fits in with their group.

In another lifetime, where Jim was single and Freddie wasn’t dealing with his own complicated feelings about Brian, he could easily see himself loving Jim… but then again, Freddie has always been able to see himself falling in love with almost anyone. It’s what makes the situation with Brian so difficult to figure out, after all. The physical attraction is there, sure, and that silly little crush that hasn’t gone away, but how is he supposed to know if there’s anything more to it when he always falls in love at the drop of a hat and falls out of love again on the slightest whim?

“We need drinks!” Roger shouts to be heard over the music. “Who’s getting the first round?”

“Freddie should! Vince is working tonight, so we might get a discount!” Joe says, winking at Freddie and grinning wickedly.

“Who’s Vince?” John asks.

“The cute bartender that Freddie’s been making eyes at ever since he started working here,” Joe explains with a laugh. “But fate keeps them apart…”

“Vince’s work schedule keeps them apart,” Phoebe cuts in. “We’re usually gone before he gets off work.”

“Either way, he gives Freddie free shots every once in a while, so I vote we send Freddie to the bar,” Joe says.

“I’ll go with him,” Brian offers quickly. “There’s seven of us, he’ll need help carrying the drinks back.”

Freddie beams at him. “Thanks, darling. C’mon, before this lot starts spreading more salacious lies about me.”

He grabs Brian’s hand – just because he doesn’t want to lose him in the crowd, of course – and leads the way over to the bar. Freddie is usually tall enough that he doesn’t have a hard time getting through the crowd, but with Brian’s height almost everyone moves aside for them without much fuss and they manage to wedge their way up to the bar in no time at all.

“Vincey!” Freddie calls out, waving at his once-favorite bartender.

Vince turns and grins at him. “Freddie! Be right with you!”

Freddie leans against a mostly-dry part of the bar while he waits. He used to love watching Vince working but somehow it’s lost some of its former appeal. Vince is no less beautiful, and he’s no less charming to his customers as he serves them up their drinks, but tonight Freddie’s heart doesn’t skip a beat when Vince gives him a wink and a flirty grin as he grabs a bottle off the back shelf.

Of course, that may be because his heart is already racing as Brian pushes closer to Freddie’s side. It’s just the crowd forcing them close together but the hot line of Brian’s body against his and the glancing touches of bare skin when Brian’s arm brushes against Freddie’s are certainly distracting, to say the least.

“Alright, Freddie, your turn now!” Vince says as he wipes his hands on a bar rag and leans against the counter in front of Freddie. “What’s your poison tonight? Your usual?”

“Yeah, but there’s seven of us tonight,” Freddie says. Vince raises an eyebrow in surprise and Freddie continues, “I’ve brought the entire band out with me this time! And this one-” He loops one arm around Brian’s shoulders, pulling him in even tighter to his body. “-has never been out clubbing before! Can you imagine that?”

“Now _that_ is a right shame!” Vince pulls out two glasses and a bottle and pours them each a shot. “To get you two going – on the house, of course.” He winks at Freddie again as Freddie hands one of the shots to Brian and they both down them, Freddie with ease and Brian with a small cough as the liquor burns the back of his throat. “And I’ll get your other drinks together and put ‘em on a tab for you… Oh, and I almost forgot! Paul was looking for you earlier, Freddie!”

Some of Freddie’s good mood starts to slip away at that. He feels bad that he’s not more excited to see his other friend, but part of him had been hoping that Paul would be at a different club tonight. The last thing he needs is for some fight to start between him and the others that would ruin the entire evening.

“Oh, really? Did he say what he wanted?” Freddie asks, and he tries his best to keep his slight feeling of dread out of his voice.

Vince just laughs. “You know how Prenter is, doesn’t say anything to anyone unless he’s getting something out of it. But if he’s still around he’ll find you eventually.”

“That sounds rather ominous,” Brian says as Vince takes Freddie’s card for the tab and leaves to get their drinks, and Freddie shivers at the feeling of Brian’s breath against his ear.

“It’s just Paul. I’m sure whatever he wants it’ll be fine,” Freddie assures him, though he’s not entirely confident that that’s true.

Freddie realizes that his arm is still around Brian’s shoulders and he quickly pulls it away. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t be draping myself all over you.”

“I don’t mind if you do.” Brian sways closer to him, almost pinning Freddie against the bar with his body. “I never mind when you touch me.”

Freddie’s mind goes blank, except for a dozen different come-ons that he wouldn’t hesitate to use on anyone else in the moment. _Darling, I haven’t even begun to touch you yet_ or _Let’s get away and I can show you what these hands can really do_ … All things that he cannot say to Brian.

Instead, after a moment, he laughs and says, “I’m glad to hear that, but if I keep touching then everyone will assume you’re already spoken for and we don’t want that!” No doubt some people would come onto Brian regardless, but those aren’t the sort that he would want to take an interest in him anyway.

“Ah. Well, that’s- Yeah, that’s true.”

Freddie frowns at the odd note in Brian’s voice, but before he can turn to look at him properly to figure out what’s going on in that mind of his Vince returns with their drinks. Freddie thanks him and blows him a kiss, and then Brian and Freddie gather up the drinks and start making their way back to their friends.

“Took you long enough!” Roger says as they reach the table and start passing out the drinks. “What, no free shots for us this time?”

“Brian and I got shots at the bar. You should’ve come with us, if you wanted any,” Freddie tells him. He bumps his shoulder against Roger’s in a friendly nudge and, with a grin, he raises his glass. “Cheers, everyone!”

Vince always mixes drinks for Freddie and his friends stronger than normal, and Freddie laughs as half the table makes a face when they take their first sip. He feels warm inside, and it’s not entirely because of the alcohol. It’s the company and laughter of his friends, and the pounding music that makes Freddie want to get up and dance, and the appreciative glances towards their group that go largely ignored because none of them came out with the sole intention of finding a partner tonight.

All of it is just _fun_ , in a way that going out hasn’t been fun for Freddie in a very long time. He lets himself forget that Paul is around and apparently looking for him, and instead gets distracted by the friendly conversations at hand - and the round of shots that Roger buys from one of the drag queens who walks around with a tray of neon-bright drinks.

Jim downs his and shakes his head roughly as the burn lingers. “Ugh, no more of those for me, I think.”

“Another round of drinks, then?” John offers as he stands up. “I’ll go get them this time.”

“And I’ll go with you, since Vince won’t know who you are otherwise,” Freddie says.

“I’ll go too-” Brian says and makes a move to follow them.

Phoebe, laughing, gently tugs on Brian’s arm to pull him back to the table. “You don’t need three people to get drinks. Let them handle it and you can fill us in on this new project of Freddie’s that’s been taking up all his time. Something about Roger giving you a hideous tapestry and he’s trying to fix it?”

“Oh, for the last time, the tapestry mess is _not_ my fault!” Roger says loudly as Joe starts to shoo John and Freddie away.

Freddie hesitates by the table for a moment longer. Brian turns to look back at him and Freddie feels his breath hitch at the sight of him. His all-white outfit makes him practically glow under the club lights, and although Freddie had wondered why Roger left Brian’s hair loose he now knows why; no messy bun could look make Brian look hotter than he does now, with his hair casting his face partially in shadows and his eyes staring out of the darkness and through Freddie with more intensity than he’s ever seen from some of the men he’s slept with in the past.

And then Roger pulls Brian back into the conversation at the table and he looks away, and whatever spell he cast over Freddie in that moment is broken.

Freddie almost trips over his own feet as he hurries to catch up with John by the bar. He can feel his face flushing red-hot, though whether from embarrassment or simmering arousal he honestly cannot tell. John gives Freddie a knowing glance when he reaches his side and asks dryly, “Do you see what I mean now about how Brian looks at you?”

Freddie pretends that he doesn’t hear the question as he waves to Vince, who winks back and starts making another round of drinks for them. Freddie doesn’t know _what_ he just saw – a trick of the light, maybe, or Brian looking at someone behind Freddie, or… or…

_Brian doesn’t do one-night stands._

_Brian isn’t looking for a relationship right now._

Somehow, the mantras don’t ring as true as they did before but Freddie can’t quite wrap his mind around the alternative: that Brian, to some degree, may be interested in _him_.

“Ah, Freddie! I’ve been looking for you.”

Freddie recognizes Paul’s voice even before he turns around. Freddie doesn’t see Paul quite as often as he did before his falling-out with the others, and he’s relieved to see that Paul looks like he’s doing well – not yet drunk, and not spaced out on the party drugs that he sometimes indulges in on his wilder nights out. And yet, Freddie thinks he’s almost more relieved that it’s only John by his side right now, and not Roger or Joe, because he knows that Paul has no reason to say anything nasty to John.

“Paul, darling, lovely to see you!” Freddie says with a friendly enough smile. “Vincey said you were looking for me…?”

“I was, yeah.” Paul glances over at John, taking his measure and clearly weighing whether he wants to have this conversation in front of him or not.

Freddie hopes that Paul doesn’t try to pull him somewhere slightly more private, because he doesn’t particularly want to leave John alone at the bar. He knows John can take care of himself but he’s still the youngest of the group and Freddie is always a little protective of him, but especially when they’re out drinking at a club late on a Friday night.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Paul says at last, and Freddie breathes a small sigh of relief that that’s all Paul wanted him for.

“Oh, really? Who is he? And…” Freddie looks around, but none of the people standing nearby seem to be with Paul. “… _where_ is he?”

“He had to step out for a moment, but he’s rather eager to meet you,” Paul says. “His name is Tony, and I think you’ll quite like him. He’s very much your type.”

Freddie’s smile fades a little as he realizes what Paul is actually getting at here. He should’ve known that Paul was trying to play wingman, and not just interested in introducing Freddie to a new friend. “Ah, well, I’d love to meet him, but I’m not looking to go home with anyone tonight…”

“I’m sure your friends won’t mind if you hit it off with someone,” Paul says with another pointed look at John. John scowls at him but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Just talk to him for a bit, let him buy you a drink… See where the night takes you, hm?”

It’s a tempting offer, and on any other night Freddie would have leapt at it… but he already knows where he wants this night to take him: Dancing with his friends, and then stumbling home drunk and laughing to sleep in his own bed. Or maybe home to Brian’s, if Roger finds someone that he wants to take back to their flat.

It takes Freddie a moment to realize that he’s somehow started thinking of Brian’s flat as _home_ too.

“I’ll talk with him,” Freddie says to Paul, but that’s all he can promise. “We’re over there by the dancefloor, if you want to send him my way when he gets back. And if you want to stop by and say hi to the others-”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not,” Paul cuts in. “It was nice seeing you, though, Freddie. You’ll have to come out with me again sometime soon.”

“Absolutely, darling, we’ll have to-” Freddie starts to say, just as Vince calls out to him and sets their drinks down on the counter. Freddie turns to thank him, and when he looks back at Paul he’s already disappeared into the crowd.

“Here, babe,” Vince says as he pours a double shot for Freddie, and one for John as well. “You look like you can use this.”

“Thank you,” Freddie says gratefully, and he immediately throws back the shot. “You’re always too good to me, Vince.”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a cute face,” Vince teases. “And you deserve more than that for putting up with Prenter.” Vince shakes his head. “He’s a difficult one, to put it politely.”

John nods in agreement as he sets his now-empty shot glass back down on the bar for Vince to clear away, but Freddie doesn’t say anything. He knows that Paul can be prickly and hard to warm up to, but he never seems to be able to convince anyone to give him much of a chance no matter what he tries. If Freddie had his way all of his friends would be friends with each other as well, but he knows that’s unlikely to happen.

And yet, as he and John approach their table with the drinks, he sees everyone laughing together and he thinks this might at least be a good start.

“Finally!” Joe says as Freddie sets down the drinks and quickly passes them out. “Took you long enough!”

“They were backed up a little at the bar,” Freddie says.

“And we ran into someone who wanted to chat,” John adds.

“Who?” Phoebe asks as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Prenter.”

Almost everyone at the table makes a face or openly boos at the mention of Paul. Even Brian, who usually tries to stay neutral where Paul is concerned, has a sour look on his face that’s surprising to see – and a little hurtful too, if Freddie is being honest. Paul _is_ still his friend, after all, even if no one else seems to like him.

“Well he’s not coming over here so you can all stop being like that,” Freddie huffs. “He just wants me to meet a friend, that’s all.”

“I don’t want to talk about fucking Prenter,” Roger announces. “We have more important things to discuss. Namely, what it will take to get _him_ -” He points to Brian. “-out on the dancefloor with us.”

Brian chokes on his drink at the mere suggestion of him dancing. “I don’t know, Rog, that’s not really my scene…”

“None of this is your scene,” Roger points out. “Isn’t tonight all about you trying something new?”

Brian purses his lips in displeasure. It’s clear that he knows that Roger is right and can’t think of anything to say as a rebuttal.

“Brimi,” Freddie says softly as he rests one hand on Brian’s arm to redirect his focus to him. “We’ll be out there with you. You don’t have to dance with a stranger if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not just that. I’m- I don’t dance, Freddie. I don’t know how,” Brian admits, just as quietly.

“I’ll show you how, then,” Freddie tells him. Someone at the table snorts in amusement – Freddie would put money on it being Roger – but Brian brightens up a little at the suggestion, and that’s all that really matters. Freddie taps on Brian’s glass and adds, “So drink up, darling. Little bit more liquid courage, and then we’ll hit the dancefloor!”

By the time they do go stumbling towards the dancefloor both Freddie and Brian are more than a little drunk, thanks to the strong drinks and the shots they’ve been taking throughout the night. It’s a fun sort of drunk, though, the kind that makes Freddie want to laugh and sing and dance and wrap his arms tightly around his friends and never let them go - and he hopes that Brian feels the same.

Joe and Roger follow them onto the dancefloor, though the others stay behind – Phoebe and Jim because dancing isn’t quite their scene, and John because he doesn’t want to lead on any potential dance partners. Freddie loses sight of Joe in the crowd, but he catches a glimpse of Roger dancing between a dark-haired man at his back and a petite blonde girl in front of him. Roger winks at Freddie over her head, before bringing his attention back to his partners.

Brian stays by the edge of the dancefloor. He’s swaying but it’s not intentional; he’s just drunk enough that he’s unsteady on his feet, but one glance tells Freddie that his mood isn’t buoyed by the alcohol at all. There’s a hint of true anxiety starting to grow on Brian’s face, and Freddie steps in front of him so his attention is focused on him and not the dancers around them.

“I don’t know that I can do this, Fred,” he says. The music is too loud for his words to actually be quiet, but it’s clear that they’re meant for Freddie’s ears alone.

“Of course you can. It’s just like performing on stage, darling,” Freddie tells him. “You know when our music takes hold of you, and you feel it in your heart and soul, and you can’t stop yourself from moving to it even if you wanted to?” Brian nods, and Freddie smiles at him. “You just have to do the same thing here.”

“This is a little different from our music, though…”

Freddie laughs. “Music is music, Brian! Even if it’s club music and not the vintage rock I know you prefer.”

Brian still looks unconvinced, so Freddie reaches out to him – only to have Brian jerk back in surprise at the first touch of Freddie’s hand on his arm. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… Let me show you? Please?”

Freddie gives Brian a hopeful look and after a moment Brian caves, and nods in agreement.

“I’m going to put my hands on your waist, alright dear?” Freddie asks. He can see Brian swallow roughly, but he nods again and Freddie reaches out to touch him like he said.

He keeps his hands higher than he normally would, on Brian’s waist rather than his hips, and he doesn’t wiggle them underneath his shirt to touch his bare skin like he so desperately wants to. Still, Brian is burning hot beneath his hands and there’s a flush rising high on his cheeks – no doubt from the alcohol, Freddie reminds himself, but the alcohol isn’t responsible for his parted lips and the intense look in his eyes that’s quickly replacing his earlier anxiety.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” Freddie tells him and Brian does – and oh, _god_ , this is going to be the death of Freddie, he knows it. Brian’s hands are large and broad and Freddie’s imagination is racing with a million thoughts of where else he wants those hands to touch him, even as he forces himself to say, “Just like that, good… And now, we dance.”

Freddie starts swaying his hips, which he makes sure to keep away from Brian’s rather than grinding up against him like he’s used to doing with his dance partners, and he uses his hands to coax Brian into following his movements. And Brian does, tentatively at first, and then bolder as Freddie beams at him and says, “You’re a natural, darling!”

Brian laughs and ducks his head. They’re close enough that he can hide his face in the crook of Freddie’s neck – and he does, and Freddie can feel him smiling against his skin and it makes Freddie feel like he’s going a little bit crazy. His head is spinning and he can’t tell if it’s because of Brian or the alcohol or the fast-tempo of the song that they match their movements to, or some heady combination of all three. It all makes Freddie feel breathless, almost delirious, a feeling that only amplifies when Brian lifts his head back up and the full force of that smile is leveled directly at Freddie.

“I’m not a natural at all. I wouldn’t know what to do with my arms, if I wasn’t dancing with you,” Brian tells him.

“You do whatever the music moves you to do,” Freddie says. “Or you just find a partner and hold onto them – their shoulders, their waist, their hips…”

Freddie’s hands slide a little lower, resting on the waistband of Brian’s trousers now, and the two of them are close enough together that Freddie can hear Brian’s breath hitch even over the pounding music. Brian’s hands tighten on his shoulders for a moment, but he doesn’t push Freddie away.

Freddie’s heart is racing and he can feel his cock starting to stir with interest. He’s playing with fire here but he can’t seem to stop. Fueled by weeks of growing attraction, a crush that Freddie knows is something more dangerous entirely, the alcohol and the atmosphere and the look in Brian’s eyes… Freddie feels powerless to hold back the tide that threatens to sweep him away now.

Over Brian’s shoulder, Freddie can see another dancer eyeing them with interest. The man is about Freddie’s height, with red hair and bright eyes and colorful tattoos along his arms – and a look of hunger on his face. He catches Freddie’s eyes for a moment, but his gaze doesn’t linger; it’s Brian that’s caught his interest, Brian that he stares at, and that makes Freddie’s blood _boil_.

Freddie knows nothing about this man. He doesn’t recognize him, and he’s keeping a respectful distance instead of trying to get Brian’s attention by more physical means. If Freddie was a better friend, or at least less drunk, he would draw Brian’s attention to him because that’s what this night is supposed to be about, isn’t it? Getting Brian out to the club, having him flirt and dance with other men so he can experience everything that he hasn’t had a chance to experience before…

But Freddie doesn’t want to stop dancing with Brian. He doesn’t want to pass Brian off to another man, stand back and watch as they dance together instead, as that man puts his hands on Brian’s body and Brian touches him back and-

Without thinking, Freddie pulls Brian in a little closer to him, and Brian instinctively moves his hands so his arms drape loosely around Freddie’s neck instead of resting on his shoulders. The song picks up in tempo and Freddie moves his body against Brian’s, and as Brian responds in kind their hips slot together and Freddie feels desire lick up his spine at the feeling of every inch of Brian pressed hotly against him now.

The man who had been eyeing Brian looks away and sets his sights on a different partner, but Freddie hardly notices. He only has eyes for Brian: his dark stare, and his pink lips that he licks without thinking, and the sweat along his temple and in the column of his throat. And, god, Freddie wants nothing more than to lick at his neck, bite along that expanse of pale skin, kiss those lips until they’re bruised and Brian is breathless beneath him…

Brian is still matching every one of Freddie’s dance moves but his hands start to wander, one playing with the ends of Freddie’s hair and the other sliding up to gently cradle the back of Freddie’s skull, pinning Freddie completely in place against him. And Freddie can’t stop himself from grinding up against Brian, his cock rocking against the answering bulge in Brian’s trousers. Brian inhales sharply and ducks his head down towards Freddie’s, and Freddie’s lips part in anticipation-

And then in an instant Brian is pulling back, letting go of Freddie and putting space between them again so quickly that it makes Freddie’s head spin.

“Sorry, gotta take a piss,” Brian says and then he’s gone, disappearing from the dancefloor in a flash and making a beeline for the toilet.

Freddie watches him leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach and ice freezing down his spine. What the fuck was he thinking, losing control like that? Letting his desires get the better of him like that? Grabbing onto Brian and grinding against him like he was a cheap piece of meat, _especially_ when he was drunk and Brian had put his trust in him…

The more Freddie thinks about it, the more he thinks that he might actually be sick right here on the dancefloor.

“Excuse me, but are you Freddie Mercury?”

Freddie turns towards the voice. It’s an unfamiliar man, with a drunken brightness in his eyes though he’s not swaying and there’s only the faintest hint of a slur to his speech. He’s attractive enough, Freddie supposes, though he’s certain he has no idea who he is.

“Yes,” Freddie says, a little cautiously. “And you are…?”

“Tony. Paul’s friend.” The man smiles at him and moves in closer, not quite invading Freddie’s personal space yet but certainly getting close. “He said he’d talk to you about me. He’s certainly talked you up quite a bit…”

“Has he now?” That’s news to Freddie. He had no idea that Paul was talking about him with others, and he’s not sure anymore if Paul is playing wingman more for Freddie or for Tony here.

“He has, though his descriptions certainly don’t do you justice.” Tony’s eyes roam over Freddie’s body. On any other evening Freddie would be preening at the attention, but his mood is still sour and he’s not up for flirting at the moment.

He forces a smile and a mild, “Oh, really?” more to be polite than out of any real interest in continuing the conversation, though Tony mistakes it for an invitation and moves in closer.

“Mm, yeah, you’re _much_ hotter in person. You have gorgeous legs, and that arse…” He takes another step in and reaches for Freddie, sliding one hand down and groping his rear.

Freddie tries to duck out of Tony’s grasp, but Tony moves with him and brings his other hand to Freddie’s waist. “Well, thank you, but I’m afraid I’m not looking for a partner tonight-”

“One dance, though?” Tony asks. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself dancing, before.”

“No, I’m sorry, but-”

“Then let me buy you a drink, at least.”

“He said that he wasn’t fucking interested!” Freddie is yanked roughly out of Tony’s grasp by Brian, apparently just returned from the toilet at the worst moment possible. Freddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen a look so _furious_ as the one that Brian levels at Tony, full of fiery and murderous intent. “And keep your _fucking_ hands off of him.”

“The fuck are you doing?” Tony snaps. “We were having a conversation!”

“He’s not interested,” Brian repeats, almost snarling the words at Tony as he moves to put himself between Freddie and the other man.

“Don’t see why this needs to concern you,” Tony says. “Someone needed to keep him company, and since _you_ went running off-”

Brian lunges forward and shoves Tony backwards, so hard that he’s knocked into a nearby group of dancers and almost falls over. There’s a shout from somewhere in the crowd and Tony takes a step towards Brian, and Freddie quickly grabs onto Brian’s arm to try to hold him back. “Brian! Leave him alone, just let it go!”

One of the drag queens working at the club steps between Brian and Tony, still holding her tray of shots. “Whatever argument you two have, take it outside,” she says sternly. “And you-” She glances at Brian. “You might not want to come back _inside_ after, you understand me?”

“We understand and we’re sorry, we’ll head out now,” Freddie apologizes. He tugs on Brian’s arm and starts pulling him away from Tony, who thankfully doesn’t make a move to follow them, and this time Brian lets himself be led away.

Roger, who must have caught the disturbance, comes stumbling off the dancefloor and intercepts them halfway to the door. “What the fuck was all that?” he demands. “Did you two get thrown out?”

“We’re leaving voluntarily before that happens,” Freddie tells him. “Brian may have gotten into a small altercation…”

“ _Alter_ -” Roger shakes his head. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you manage to find trouble.” He sighs, and adds, “Right, well, I’ll let the others know, we’ll settle the tab and meet you outside.”

Freddie catches a glimpse of a dark hickie along the side of Roger’s neck and feels a flash of guilt at having drawn him away from his partners. “Rog, no, you don’t have to leave just because we are…”

“Freddie, don’t argue with me about this. I’ll get the others, we’ll find a pub to finish out the night, and you can explain there what the fuck happened,” Roger says firmly.

“Alright,” Freddie relents. “We’ll be outside, just don’t be too long.”

Roger nods and hurries off to find their friends, and Freddie and Brian step out onto the dark sidewalk. It’s cool outside, especially compared to the heat of the crowded club, and Freddie finds himself shivering almost at once. Next to him, Brian is as quiet and still as a statue, and Freddie wishes he would just say _something_.

“I’m sorry you got yourself into trouble because of me, darling,” Freddie tells him after a moment, just to break the silence stretching out between them.

“Sorry- Freddie, no, you have nothing to apologize for!” Brian shakes his head. “If anyone should apologize it’s him! The way he had his hands all over you, _god_ …”

“He had gone a _bit_ far with his flirting…”

“A bit far?” Brian echoes. He gives Freddie a look of absolute disbelief. “Fred, if I flirted with a girl by putting my hands on her arse they’d say I assaulted her, and they’d be right to do so! He doesn’t get a pass just because you’re both men.”

Freddie looks away from Brian, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about how he let himself get carried away dancing with Brian back in the club. “He was Paul’s friend,” Freddie manages to force out. “Paul wanted to set us up, I think.”

Brian huffs and asks, “So that makes it alright for him to ignore you when you keep telling him no?” Freddie doesn’t have an answer to that and Brian sighs in disappointment. “Freddie, that isn’t- Please tell me that men like that aren’t your type. That Paul was just completely misguided here.”

Freddie shrugs a little and still can’t bring himself to look at Brian as he admits, “Men like that are the sort who usually pay attention to me. And they can be fun, for an evening or two.”

“But you deserve _better_!” Brian says, clearly frustrated now that he’s seen the realities of Freddie’s dating experience. “You deserve someone who will treat you right, who will _cherish_ you. Just because you haven’t found them yet, that doesn’t mean you have to settle for men like _that_ instead.”

“I…” Freddie glances up at Brian, and completely forgets everything he had been planning on saying. There’s a miserable look on Brian’s face, a sort of hopeless desperation as if no part of Brian can bear the thought of Freddie letting someone like Tony put their hands on him ever again.

And Freddie doesn’t know what to do with that. He wants to promise Brian that he’ll never go home with a man like that again. He wants to wrap his arms around Brian and kiss that look off his face and-

And he wants to tell Brian that he _has_ found someone who will treat him right and that it’s _him_. That it’s Brian he wants more than anything else in the world, not just as a bedpartner but as his boyfriend as well.

The realization overwhelms him, in the way that moments of drunken clarity often do. It takes his breath away, leaves him reeling and speechless and unable to think of anything except how much he _wants_ Brian in that moment.

Brian, obviously unaware of any of this, keeps talking when Freddie doesn’t continue. “You said it yourself, Fred. You have a community now, a- a _family_ , with all your friends that came out tonight – _including_ me. You’re not alone anymore, and I know it’s not the same as having a partner, but that- Well it has to count for something, right?”

Every word that Brian says feels like a knife being stabbed through Freddie’s heart. He knows that Brian is trying to be reassuring, but Freddie doesn’t want his comfort if it comes with the pointed reminder that Brian is _only_ his friend, and nothing more than that.

Still he forces down his heartache and puts on the best smile he can and says, “That counts for everything, darling. Thank you.”

The door to the club opens and Roger and John come barreling out, almost running into Freddie and Brian. “Oh good, you two didn’t disappear,” Roger says. “So, Peter’s gone to collect Joe-”

Freddie knows that most people don’t call Phoebe by the drag nickname that Freddie gave him, but he’s just drunk enough that it takes him a moment to realize who “Peter” is anyway.

“And Jim’s settling the tab and getting your card back, and then he says he knows a place nearby that’ll be a bit quieter where we can grab a few more drinks before heading home,” Roger finishes. He looks between Brian and Freddie, studying them both with a shrewd look on his face, and adds, “Now, do one of you want to tell me what the _fuck_ just happened in there?”

Brian starts in with his explanation and apologies, just as Freddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It takes him a moment to fish it out from the tight shorts that he’s wearing but he eventually does, assuming that it’s Phoebe giving him an update on what’s going on inside – but that’s not who it is.

 _ **Paul:** just saw u leave  
_ _tony wants to say sorry_  
_he didn’t mean to pick a fight  
_ _give him a 2nd chance?_

A phone number is included, one that Freddie can only assume belongs to Tony, and he slides his phone back into his pocket without responding.

He has no intention of following up with Tony or giving him a second chance. He has no intention of giving _anyone_ a chance now… except for Brian, that is.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the inevitable turning point in this story, where Brian and Freddie are going to start making some rather poor decisions. I promise there is still a happy ending in store for them! We just have to get through some difficult bits first.
> 
> If the part in this chapter with the Zandra Rhodes tunics seems familiar, it’s because I posted a version of that on my tumblr several months ago as a stand-alone ficlet. If you’re interested you can read that [here](https://rushingheadlong.tumblr.com/post/617192812607422464/).

_It’s hot. Swelteringly hot, and loud too; the music pulses through Brian’s body, matching his racing heartbeat, matching the movement of his body and the body in front of him…_

_Brian knows this scene. He knows this dance and this club and this person in his arms. Brian knows the press of their bodies together, his hands on Brian’s hips, his dark hair and dark eyes and beautiful, brilliant smile… And in Brian’s dream he knows even more too. He knows the tongue licking into his mouth, and the hips grinding up against his, and the hard cock pressing against Brian’s own._

_“Freddie,” Brian groans. “God, Freddie…”_

Brian’s phone chimes, startling Brian out of the dream. It takes him a moment to remember where he is: on the sofa in his living room, with his laptop still balanced on his legs though his handwritten notes apparently fell on the floor sometime after he fell asleep. He fumbles for his phone and pulls up his text messages, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s opened his conversation with Freddie on reflex even though that’s not who the new message is from.

Brian huffs and scrubs a hand over his face in frustration. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he swipes over to the right conversation.

The message was from Trident, letting them know that there’s been a cancellation and the studio is theirs for two hours if they can get over there ASAP. A second text comes through from Freddie, confirming that him and Roger are on their way over now.

John hasn’t responded yet, but even if he can’t make it on such short notice the other three can work on backing vocals without him there.

_**Brian:** I’ll meet you at the studio ASAP. -Bri_

Brian closes his laptop and sets it aside, and stares down at his scattered notes for a moment before he decides that he can’t be bothered to gather them all up now. He leaves them on the floor instead and carefully steps over them as he heads into the bathroom to splash some water on his face to try to wake up a little bit more before heading out into public. He still feels disoriented from his interrupted nap and the dream he had been having – the same sort of dream that he’s been having regularly over the last few days, ever since he went out to Vice Versa with Freddie last Friday. He still feels too-hot all over, uncomfortably flushed and still half-hard in his joggers though the cool water on his face is helping that go away at least.

Part of him doesn’t want to see Freddie, not after a dream like that. It was bad enough having to look Freddie in the face after an idle daydream about kissing him; now Brian just feels dirty, and not in a fun way – like he’s using his friend, taking something from him that Freddie wouldn’t willingly give him. And he knows now that Freddie wouldn’t willingly give him this, because Brian had put that to the test at the club and had gotten that answer back loud and clear.

Brian had tried flirting with Freddie at the bar when they were getting drinks, only for Freddie to laugh it off and put some space between them. And then Brian had tried to get closer to Freddie while they were dancing and he thought, at first, that that was working. But when Freddie had enthusiastically responded to his advances Brian looked at him and seen the drunken shine in his eyes and immediately got cold feet. He wanted Freddie, but not if Freddie only wanted him while drunk – and when Freddie texted him the following day, apologizing for coming on too strong while they were dancing, Brian knew that was the case.

So Brian knows that the only thing left for him to do now is to move on, but that’s certainly easier said than done. A single forehead kiss had been enough to spark this new fixation on Freddie, but the night out at Vice Versa had done so much more damage. Brian can’t stop thinking about Freddie, no matter how hard he tries. He already loves Freddie – as a friend, and as a brother – and he can so _easily_ picture himself loving Freddie romantically as well now.

And that’s dangerous, because Brian isn’t good at letting go of the people that catch his fancy and Freddie is so intertwined with every aspect of Brian’s life that he doesn’t know how to even begin to carve him out of it. He can throw out the box of Freddie’s tea in his cupboard, and return the jacket hanging up in his closet, and burn a thousand candles to mask the scent of Freddie’s paints and aftershave that permeates throughout the entire flat even when Freddie isn’t there himself… but there’s nothing that can change the fact that it’s Freddie’s smile that greets him when he finally makes it into the studio… Freddie’s shoulder brushing against his as they record backing harmonies for one of their songs… Freddie who he keeps looking at for approval, even when it’s Roger that he’s arguing with over a finer point of some old Smile song that hasn’t been coming together the way they hoped it would…

Brian isn’t usually a fan of using space metaphors to describe the attraction between two people. He’s spent too many years studying astrophysics to ever be able to turn off the part of his brain that wants to criticize the simplistic and inaccurate descriptions of gravitational pulls, and he always wants to point out the inherent problems in romanticizing the forces that a larger body will enact on smaller objects caught in its vicinity. And yet Brian finds himself constantly pulled towards Freddie in a way that defies all other explanations, that makes Brian think of major planets and their natural satellites and the unfortunate objects that can’t break free and find themselves plummeting towards a crash landing.

Brian certainly feels like he’s burning up in Freddie’s atmosphere every time the singer so much as glances his way – not just getting a little hot under the collar but spinning dangerously out of control, hurtling towards some inevitable destruction unless he can somehow pull himself back together and find someone else to become the focus of all his fantasies.

By the time Roy finally kicks them out of the studio two agonizingly long hours later, Brian still feels entirely out-of-sorts. He doesn’t know if it’s solely because of Freddie, or if he’s just disoriented from his impromptu nap (and inappropriate dream) earlier, but he wishes he could just hit a giant reset button on the entire day.

“Brian, darling, what are your plans now?” Freddie asks as Roger wastes no time in lighting a cigarette. Freddie moves closer to Brian to get away from the smoke, and Brian is just distracted enough by his presence that he almost misses Freddie adding, “Zandra just finished our new tunics, if you wanted to go pick them up with me?”

Zandra Rhodes was a friend-of-a-friend of Freddie’s, a designer whose social circles overlapped with his at university just enough that he was able to get her number and get a deal on some matching stage outfits based on some of her existing designs. Freddie originally wanted all four of them to match, but Roger had backed out on the grounds that the elaborate sleeve designs would hinder his drumming and John had simply put his foot down and refused to wear it. That just left Freddie and Brian with their custom-made angel wing tunics, though he knew Freddie had plans to get more pieces from Zandra in the future.

Brian had been looking forward to these tunics being finished, since they would be their first proper bit of stagewear and not some conglomeration of vintage pieces that Freddie and Roger scrounged together. Now, though, the thought of him and Freddie in matching outfits makes his face flush uncomfortably hot.

“Ah, sorry Freddie, I think I have to pass,” Brian says, as he rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I’m fucking exhausted, I think I’m just gonna head home.”

Freddie frowns and peers at him in concern. “Are you alright? Not getting sick, are you?”

He reaches out as if to press the back of his hand to Brian’s forehead, and Brian ducks away from his touch. He thinks he might just fall to pieces if Freddie touches him now, with how tightly wound he is. “I’m not sick, just tired. I fell asleep while working on my thesis before coming here.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Freddie says sympathetically. “Do you want me to stop by with some dinner after I pick up the tunics-?”

“Freddie, for fuck’s sake, leave him alone,” Roger says with a laugh as he drops his cigarette and stamps it out under his toe. “He said he’s exhausted, let him go home and get some sleep. You can hang out at his place and work on that fucking tapestry some other night.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything more than drop off some takeaway, honestly,” Freddie says with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “And besides, the tapestry is almost finished. Another night or two of work and it’ll be done, so there’s no need to rush and work on it now.”

The tapestry _is_ almost done, something that Brian has been trying his best to forget. All that’s left is a little section in the lower right corner, and since that’s mostly getting painted black Brian knows that it won’t take Freddie long to finish it. What happens after that, Brian doesn’t want to think about. No doubt Freddie would stop coming over quite so often, which should be a good thing; maybe with some distance between them, some of these dreams and fantasies will finally fade away.

But if that comes at the expense of his close friendship with Freddie… if he loses even the slightest bit of the intimacy and care that’s developed between them… Brian isn’t sure if he could stand for that to happen, though he’s too tired and too turned-around to want to look too closely at _why_ he finds that possibility so intolerable.

“‘s alright, Freddie, I just got my stipend payment for this month so I just bought plenty of groceries,” Brian tells him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Brian, darling,” Freddie says with a fond smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, you’re my friend and that means I’m _always_ going to worry about you a little.”

“Yeah, but at least this time you can worry about him a little less,” Roger says. He slings an arm around Freddie’s shoulder and says, “C’mon, I’ll go with you to Zandra’s to get the outfits and Brian…” He studies him for a moment, head slightly cocked and eyes searching in a way that makes Brian want to duck away from the scrutiny of his gaze. “You do look like shit, mate. Get some sleep, we’ll see you on Friday for the show, alright?”

“Unless Trident calls us in at the last minute again before then,” Brian says. Or unless Freddie stops by his flat sometime in the next few days, but Brian doesn’t want to add that because he can’t stand to think about the confusing tangle of emotions that Freddie stirs inside him now.

“Well, cross your fingers that they don’t,” Roger says, a little sourly. They’re all tired of the arrangement they have with Trident for extra studio time, though none of them want to rock the boat by complaining. “Especially since we need John in to record some bass lines and all the cancellations seem to happen when he has class. I swear there’s a conspiracy there…”

Brian snorts. “I’m sure that’s exactly it.”

“Hey, you can’t tell me that you don’t think it’s a little odd-”

“Roger dear, I think it’s time for _you_ to leave him alone,” Freddie cuts in with a laugh. “Come on. Zandra’s, dinner, and back to our place, so Brian can go home and get some much-needed rest.”

It’s a solid plan, for all of them, but of course by the time Brian gets back to his flat he feels wired and sleep is the last thing on his mind. He manages to force down some food even though his stomach feels like it’s in knots, and he cleans up his discarded thesis notes that he left on the floor earlier before pulling out his guitar to work on his White Queen song a little bit more.

_On such a breathless night as this, upon my brow the lightest kiss…_

Brian wonders if using she/her pronouns in his lyrics will be enough to keep everyone in the world from figuring out who he’s really talking about here, or if he should just scrap the whole project and start over again. What right does he have to use Freddie as his muse like this, when Brian can’t even figure out if it’s love or lust or something else altogether that he’s feeling for his friend - and when Freddie doesn’t feel the same in return anyway?

By the time Brian finally forces himself to go to bed he's made hardly any progress on the song and only managed worked himself into a pique of frustration all over again. Mercifully, though, if he dreams of Freddie again he doesn't remember it in the morning.

Brian doesn't end up seeing any of his band mates before their next show, a rare Friday night gig that's luckily at one of the local unis and not out of town. Brian is the last to arrive at the venue, having been delayed by his undergrad class and a quick detour home to scarf down some dinner and grab his Red Special, and he can feel a line of tension starting to settle across his shoulders and in his neck as he tries to find his way to whatever space will pass as their makeshift dressing room for the evening. The place is larger than he thought it was and already swarming with people, and if they all stick around for Queen's set then this could easily be the largest crowd that they've performed to yet.

He finally finds his destination and pushes open the door, only to find that Freddie is the only one there. “Where’s-?” he starts to ask as he sets down his guitar case and bag and looks around the small room.

“Roger and John ducked out to have one last smoke before the show,” Freddie answers before Brian can even finish the question. He’s putting the finishing touches on his makeup for the evening, but spares a glance at Brian over his shoulder and smiles at him. “Take a breath, darling, you still have plenty of time. Your tunic is hanging up over there-” he points across the room, “-and I can help with your eyeliner, if you feel like wearing any.”

“Thanks, Freddie.” Brian is grateful not only for Freddie’s uncanny ability to always know exactly what to say to help keep him calm, but also that there’s no awkwardness filling the space between them even though it’s just the two of them in the room.

And why would there be any awkwardness, after all? They’re still close friends; that hasn’t changed just because Brian has started dreaming about Freddie in ways that he shouldn’t, or because he now finds himself wondering if his feelings of friendship may have morphed into something deeper when he wasn’t paying attention. And besides, it isn’t like Freddie knows about these thoughts that Brian has been having, and he’s certainly not facing a similar sort of confusion himself.

The only moment of awkwardness comes when Brian goes to put on his new tunic. It’s as beautifully made as Brian knew it would be, the wide angel wings exquisitely draped and every pleat absolutely perfect. Even Brian, whose fashion knowledge is limited, can recognize the care and effort that Zandra put into these garments… but he’s baffled by the row of tiny buttons running down the spine, the only fasteners on the entire thing. He doesn’t remember discussing that particular design choice with Zandra and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now. If it was a zipper he could probably contort himself enough to pull it up himself, but with buttons he knows he’s going to need help.

And with Roger and John still not back, there’s only one person he can ask.

It takes Brian a few tries to swallow down a sudden spike of anxiety before he manages to call out, “Ah, Freddie?”

Freddie turns around again. “Yes, Bri?” But he spots the issue immediately without Brian having to explain it - though it’s hard to miss with how the tunic is hanging loose off Brian’s shoulders like it currently is - and he smiles as he asks, “Need help with the buttons?”

Brian nods. “Please.”

“Of course, darling.”

Brian watches Freddie stand up, mesmerized by the way the sleeves of his own tunic flow as he moves, looking almost like the wings of the bird. It isn’t until Freddie is in front of Brian and motions for him to turn around that Brian does, and then Freddie’s hands are there, pulling the tunic closed and deftly securing each tiny button.

Brian has always been fascinated by Freddie’s hands, even before this new attraction overwhelmed him. There’s something about the way they look as Freddie plays the piano, the delicate flash of black polish on one hand, the way they grip and twist and play with the mic as he performs, that’s simply captivating to watch. Brian knows what those hands feel like on his waist and hips as they coax him into dancing, and now he knows what those fingers feel like as they graze gently against his skin and linger along his spine as Freddie slowly works his way up each button.

“Nervous, Brimi?” Freddie asks.

His soft voice does little to interrupt Brian’s traitorous thoughts of what those fingers would feel like on other parts of his body. Brian’s mouth has gone dry and it takes him a moment to say, “A little bit, yeah.”

“Thought so. You’re shaking, you know,” Freddie tells him.

So Brian is, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with pre-show nerves anymore. There’s something new thrumming through his body, something far more dangerous than his usual anxiety - something far more terrifying, something that could ruin one of the best friendships that Brian has ever had if he can’t make sense of these new feelings and bring them under control.

Freddie must be done with the buttons because his hands are at the base of Brian’s neck now - but rather than moving away, they instead slide down to Brian’s shoulders and Freddie gives a small squeeze as he says, “You don’t have to be nervous. Don’t worry about the crowd, just go out there and be your usual fabulous self and you’ll win them all over.”

Brian’s eyes slip closed. “Thanks, Freddie,” he whispers, and he tries not to imagine what it would feel like to have Freddie kiss the back of his neck right now.

And then the door to the dressing room flies open and Roger and John stumble in, breaking the moment with their loud, raucous laughter. Freddie takes a smooth step back and joins in their chatter as Brian busies himself with throwing on some eyeliner, hoping that the others won’t see the bright red flush on his face. He feels like he’s going crazy with the phantom feeling of Freddie’s touch along his vertebrae and his hot breath against the back of Brian’s neck… even the sound of Freddie laughing at something that John said makes his stomach flip and his hands shake a little bit more.

This has to stop. One way or another, Brian needs these feelings to _stop_.

There’s no chance for a proper soundcheck, but luckily the others sorted out the bulk of their equipment before Brian arrived and double-checking the tuning of his Red Special only takes a few moments as they wait in the wings to walk out on stage. It’s enough to drag Brian back into his normal pre-gig frame of mind - at least until Brian catches a glimpse of the buttons running down the back of Freddie’s own tunic, and then his focus is completely thrown again.

Who did Freddie ask to help him with those buttons? Was it Roger? John? Did either of them linger over the task and steal gentle touches of their own, or did they rush through the task with no care in the world? It doesn’t matter either way but Brian’s chest feels hot with a horrible mix of jealousy and anger and desire, all fueling into the worst sort of feedback loop as he follows the others out onto stage and they launch into their first song of the evening.

There’s an edge to Brian’s playing tonight that he can’t hide, and the others pick up on it almost immediately. Luckily John and Roger know how to temper his playing so the music doesn’t get completely out of control, and Freddie is adaptable enough to adjust to the flow of their playing without much issue. Still, when Freddie sidles up next to Brian, mimicking his guitar playing on his mic stand, there’s a look of worry on his face that isn’t usually there.

Brian forces a smile, and hopes it comes out reassuring and not predatory even though Freddie’s closeness is enough to make his head spin. It must work because after a moment Freddie grins back at him, and then he’s sliding away as the next chorus comes up and he needs to sing again.

Somehow, Brian survives the show. There’s no encore, even though the crowd is clambering for one - there’s simply no time, not with another act scheduled to follow them - and Queen leave the stage to a roar of cheers that echo down the hallway after them as they stumble back to their makeshift dressing room. Brian’s ears are ringing, his heart is pounding, and he can’t tell if any of it is just lingering adrenaline from the show or if it’s because Freddie is walking next to him, sweaty and clearly too hot in his new Zandra Rhodes tunic but still beaming like he’s never been happier about anything in his life.

“We were _amazing_ tonight, darlings, simply amazing!” he announces as he throws open the door to their dressing room and they all file inside. “It’s a travesty that we aren’t allowed an encore, did you hear that crowd screaming for more? And to think I had been nervous before going on stage!” Freddie laughs and he adds, “Can someone help me get out of this ridiculous tunic, please?”

Roger steps forward to undo the buttons for Freddie, while Brian is momentarily distracted by a sudden surge of guilt. Freddie had been nervous before taking the stage? How could Brian have missed that?

No. He knows _exactly_ why he missed it, and he hates himself for it. He hates that he was too busy lusting after Freddie, too busy being petty and jealous over someone else helping him get dressed, too busy being a fucking _idiot_ to notice that his friend was nervous and could have used some reassurance. Brian told Freddie weeks ago that he’d be there for him if he got anxious before a gig, but now when Freddie might have needed him he was too distracted to realize it.

“Brian, turn around, I’ll get your buttons undone for you,” John says, cutting into Brian’s self-loathing thoughts.

Brian nods, not trusting himself to say anything, and John starts to unbutton the tunic. His touch doesn’t make Brian shake like Freddie’s had earlier, even though John struggles a little with the tiny buttons and it takes him longer to get them undone.

“Let’s go out, have a few drinks and celebrate a job well done!” Roger suggests. “What do you all say, hm?”

Freddie and John both quickly agree but Brian, still lost in his own self-deprecating thoughts, hesitates.

“Brian, dear?” Freddie prompts. “Are you going to join us?”

Brian shrugs, and John grabs onto the back of the tunic to hold him still while he works at the buttons. “I don’t know, I’m feeling a bit off tonight…”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Roger says, laughing. “Seems like you could use a few drinks to help get rid of all that extra energy you were playing with tonight!”

“Think Brian will need more than a few drinks to calm down,” John teases. “Maybe finding a nice girl to take home, or a guy-”

Brian pulls away from John and wrenches the tunic off, not caring that the last few buttons are still closed at the bottom. “Sorry, no, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

His mind is swimming with memories from their night out at the club: Freddie flirting with the bartender, Freddie getting drunk and grinding against him when they danced, only to apologize for it while sober, Freddie getting hit on and the blind _rage_ Brian felt at seeing another man touch him… Brian doesn’t think he can stand any of that happening again tonight, but worse is the fact that he doesn’t know that he can trust _himself_ to be drunk around Freddie. Not now, not when he’s so turned around and lost in his feelings that he can’t even pick up on when Freddie is nervous when they’re both _sober_.

Freddie gives Brian a searching look, which Brian does his best to avoid. “Are you alright, Brimi?” he asks, a little soft. “You weren’t feeling well earlier in the week either…”

“I’m fine, Freddie. Just tired still,” Brian lies, but it’s a lie he can sell so he’s willing to go with it.

“Then go home, and get some sleep. And hopefully you feel a bit more like yourself in the morning,” Freddie says with a smile.

Brian does go home but, as it has been so often over the last week, sleep is the last thing on his mind. His thoughts keep circling around the same few topics: Freddie and the club last Friday and the mess that Brian has been stewing in over the past seven days. And he finds himself thinking about John’s joke, about how Brian needs to find someone to hook-up with to blow off some stream… and he finds himself thinking that, maybe, John might actually be onto something there.

If he’s just fixating on Freddie because he’s been around so often, then maybe seeing someone else will get whatever _this_ is out of his system. Or if he’s fixating on Freddie because he just wants to finally experience being with a man, then surely any man would do the job just as well. And if there’s more to his attraction than just something physical… Well, Brian doesn’t know that there is, but at least trying to meet up with someone else will make that clearer for him too, right?

Part of Brian is well aware that this is a terrible plan, but he needs to do _something_ and he doesn’t have any better ideas. He can’t talk to Freddie, not when he’s almost certain that his friend doesn’t feel the same and when Brian isn’t even sure he knows what his own feelings are. So if going on a date with someone else - or maybe even trying his hand at hooking up with someone - will help him with that, then so be it.

Before he can change his mind he grabs his phone and downloads Tinder. He knows there are apps out there specifically for queer men - Grindr, for one, and whatever the others were that Freddie talked about before - but he’s a little intimidated by the thought of actually using them. He’s certain that he wants to try talking to another man; that only makes sense, considering all of Brian’s thoughts and dreams have been occupied by one man in particular as of late. Still, he’s acutely aware of his own inexperience in that department, and admitting as much on a queer-specific app feels like an impossible task.

And if he chickens out of talking to men altogether, at least on Tinder he can talk to girls as well. Not that he’s much better at that, but Brian is desperate at this point and willing to give almost anything a try.

The app finishes downloading and Brian looks down at the icon on his screen, suddenly feeling the weight of this plan almost overwhelming him.

“Just chat with a few people. See where it goes,” he mutters to himself. “Just enough to forget about Freddie for a bit.”

There’s no forgetting about Freddie, Brian already knows that. But he’s desperate and out of other options, so with one last sigh he opens up the app.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor decisions continue. The “background Brian May/Others” and “Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s)” tags both come into play with this chapter.

Freddie has made up his mind.

He’s finally going to talk to Brian, bare his heart and lay all his cards on the table, because he can’t go on like they have been. He can’t keep pretending that he hasn’t fallen in love with Brian, especially when he’s starting to suspect that Brian feels _something_ for him. He doesn’t know what it is, but he notices now the way that Brian looks at him, the way he flushes and hides his face and gets all nervous whenever Freddie flirts with him, and he’s even starting to think that maybe Brian wasn’t repulsed by his actions at the club after all. Maybe, just maybe, Brian ran away because he was just too scared to respond in kind.

Freddie doesn’t know any of that for sure. All he knows is that he needs to talk to Brian and figure it out, once and for all, no matter what Brian’s response to everything will be.

_Brian, darling, I think I love you. And it’s perfectly alright if you don’t feel the same, but I just need you to know that._

_Brimi, I know you aren’t looking for a relationship right now but I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve captured my heart, stolen my love, completely changed my life… and would you, perhaps, like to go on a date with me?_

_Brian, you are stunningly beautiful and I can’t get you out of my head. Do you want to get drinks, and see where the evening takes us?_

Alright, so maybe he still hasn’t quite figured out what exactly he’s going to say, but he’s not going to let that stop him now. He’s going to go over to Brian’s flat, woo him with a perfect cup of tea and the scones he bought on his way over, and then say something that’s hopefully witty and charming and doesn’t completely scare Brian off. And if that doesn’t _quite_ work, well, he still has the excuse of having to finish the last bit of tapestry to come back to Brian’s place at least one more time after this to smooth over any ruffled feathers.

It’s a fool-proof plan, really it is… but he hits a small snag when he knocks on Brian’s door, and there’s no answer.

That’s a little odd. It’s a Sunday, so Brian should be home, and Freddie made sure to stop by late enough that Brian should be awake even with the hours that he usually keeps. Then again, Freddie did forget to text before coming over, as he always does, so he shifts the bag of scones to his other hand and pulls out his phone and fires off a quick message to Brian, just in case his friend has his headphones in again and didn’t hear the knock.

_**Freddie:** im outside. sry for not texting ahead again ♥_

Freddie taps one foot impatiently as he waits for a response from Brian, but there isn’t one. He knocks on the door again, a little louder, and there’s no response to that either.

_**Freddie:** bri? are you home?_

No response, and Freddie huffs in slight annoyance. Brian must still be asleep and part of Freddie feels bad for trying so hard to wake him up, but he’s a man on a mission today and he’s not going to let anything ruin his plans. So he calls Brian’s phone and he listens to it ring… and ring… and ring and ring and ring, until it finally clicks over to Brian’s voicemail. Freddie hangs up without leaving a message and knocks on the door again, this time calling out, “Brian? Are you home?”

There’s still no response so Freddie calls Brian’s phone again - and again it goes to voicemail, and this time Freddie leaves a snappish, “Brian, darling, if you’re home and sleeping through the racket I’m making I am going to be _very_ cross with you,” on his voicemail.

Freddie hangs up and gnaws on his bottom lip as he thinks over what to do. Truthfully, he’s getting a little nervous. Brian can be a heavy sleeper, sure, but the odds of him sleeping in this late _and_ not hearing his phone or Freddie knocking seem slim. What if Brian slipped and fell in the shower and can’t get to his phone? Or what if he accidentally cut himself while cooking and bled out in his kitchen? Or what if-?

“He’s probably just gone out,” Roger says when Freddie bursts into their flat in a complete fit of worry and rambling about the dozen horrible emergencies that could have befallen Brian in his flat since they last saw him.

“Out where?” Freddie asks. “It’s a Sunday, so he doesn’t have class or tutoring sessions or meetings with his advisor or-”

“He could be out with friends,” Roger points out.

Freddie gives him a withering look. “Roger, darling, I’m not trying to be rude here, but what friends does he have besides us?”

Roger thinks about that for a moment. “Tim? At least, I think they’re still talking after Brian moved out…”

“You really think he’s hanging out with Tim on a Sunday afternoon?”

“Not really, no,” Roger admits. “Out buying groceries then?”

Freddie shakes his head. “He told us last week that he had just bought food.”

“Yeah, that’s the funny thing about food though, innit? You have to keep buying it,” Roger says.

Freddie throws the bag of scones down on the table and throws himself down onto the couch. “I’m being serious here, Rog! He’s not answering my texts or calls either, and that’s not like him no matter what he’s doing!”

“Hm, yeah alright, that is a bit odd,” Roger agrees after a moment of considering that. “Toss me my- thanks,” he says as Freddie hands Roger his phone before he can even finish the question, and he fires off a text to Brian.

“You think he’ll answer you?” Freddie asks.

“Honestly? No.” Roger glances up at Freddie and adds, “If he’s not answering _you_ , then he’s not going to answer _me_.”

Freddie scowls at him. In a perfect world he’d be testing whether Brian actually was interested in him by _talking to him_ , not by seeing who he texted back first.

“Can’t you just give him a call?” Freddie asks after a few too-anxious minutes when there’s no response to Roger’s text.

Roger rolls his eyes and grumbles out a complaint about how ridiculous Freddie is being, but he does as Freddie asks and calls Brian. He puts the call on speaker so Freddie can hear it ring, and ring, and ring and ring and ring and finally click over to voicemail yet again. “Brian, it’s Roger, call Freddie back before he worries himself into an early grave,” Roger leaves as a message, fully ignoring the glare that Freddie is giving him.

“I am _not_ going to worry myself to death over this!” Freddie says hotly.

“Right, of course you’re not.” Roger tosses his phone onto the seat next to him and sprawls out in his chair with a sigh. “You know, he could just be on a date.”

Freddie scoffs at that. “He is _not_ out on a date, Rog. Brian isn’t looking for a relationship right now, he told me that himself.”

“He’s allowed to change his mind about that,” Roger says, and Freddie scowls at the suggestion. He wants Brian to have changed his mind about that, yes, but only if it’s to go out with _him_.

Roger sighs, and adds, “Freddie, Brian’s a bloke in his twenties. He’s allowed to go out on dates or meet up with friends - or make entirely new friends, in his case - without sharing every detail of it with us.”

“But that’s just not like him!” Not without telling Freddie, at least. Brian would have said something if he had plans with new friends, and he _certainly_ would have said something if he had somehow found himself a date!

“Alright, well, what would you like to do then?” Roger asks. “It’s not like it’s been days since we’ve heard from him; we saw him on Friday at the show and he answered John’s question in the group chat last night, remember? It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday so he’s probably not out drinking somewhere. Did you want to start searching the entirety of London for him, then? Check every museum or art gallery, look in every little record shop or supermarket… Or maybe we should bother his parents, in case he went home at the last minute? Do you want to do that?”

“No, of course not,” Freddie mumbles, but Roger’s words don’t really make him any less worried. Brian can be absent-minded at times but he’s almost obsessive about keeping his phone on hand and it’s unusual for him to go this long without at least a perfunctory response, especially on a weekend.

“Maybe he lost his phone,” Freddie muses aloud. That would certainly explain the lack of responses.

Roger sighs again and says, “I’m sure that’s exactly it, Fred.” It’s painfully obvious from Roger’s tone that he’s only humoring him, but right now Freddie will gladly take that.

Freddie’s worry doesn’t entirely disappear and he can’t quite settle down. He takes to pacing around the living room, and when Roger finally snaps at him to cut it out he takes to pacing around his bedroom instead. He doesn’t call Brian again - he doesn’t think he could stand to hear Brian’s voicemail message one more time - but he can’t stop himself from sending more texts.

 _ **Freddie:** im starting to worry darling  
_ _where are you anyway??  
_ _pls just text me back…_

The afternoon wears on into the early evening. Freddie makes tea, and it goes cold while he stews in his worry over Brian. What if something really has gone wrong? What if something happened to Brian and he needs help and Freddie was just sitting here doing nothing? What if-?

Freddie’s phone chimes and his heart leaps into his throat at the sound of that particular text alert. He knows who it is, even before his fumbling fingers manage to pull up the new message.

_**Brian:** I’m fine. -Bri_

Freddie waits a moment to see if Brian says anything else, but that’s all that comes through and Freddie’s worry kicks up another notch at the uncharacteristically short response.

_**Freddie:** are you sure? you dont sound fine_

_**Brian:** Well I am. You didn’t need to blow up my phone like this. -Bri_

Freddie bristles at that. Brian is clearly in some sort of foul mood but Freddie has no idea why, or why Brian is taking it out on him.

 _ **Freddie:** well you don’t usually ignore texts like that  
_ _I was worried_

_**Brian:** I was busy. -Bri_

_**Freddie:** on a sunday?  
_ _doing what??_

_**Brian:** I had a date. -Bri_

Freddie stares down at his phone. He reads Brian’s last message, and then reads it again, and he knows what it says but the words don’t make sense. Brian said he wasn’t looking for a relationship, so why was he…? And how did Freddie not know about this?

_**Freddie:** what???_

_**Brian:** I told you, I had a date.  
_ _That’s why I wasn’t answering my phone._

_**Freddie:** why didn’t you say anything?_

_**Brian:** I didn’t know I was expected to._

Every new text from Brian feels like he’s driving a knife deeper into Freddie’s heart. Brian had a _date_. He had a date, and he never thought to tell his friends - to tell _Freddie_ \- about it.

Freddie can’t have this conversation over text. He calls Brian and it rings, and rings, and rings and rings - and Brian picks up at the last minute.

“Freddie, if you’re calling to gossip about my date, I’m not in the mood,” Brian says in lieu of a proper greeting.

He sounds tired and a little pissed off, and there are so many warning bells going off in Freddie’s head that he doesn’t even know where to begin. All he can get out at first is a questioning, “What do you mean, you had a _date_?”

“I mean exactly what it sounds like. I met up with a guy for coffee and-”

“You went on a date with a _guy?_ ” Freddie cuts in.

“Yes, I did,” Brian snaps. “Why does that matter? Why does _any_ of what I do in my personal life matter to you?”

“Because I’m your friend, Brian! And usually this is the sort of thing you share with your friends!” Freddie snaps back to cover up the deep hurt he feels at Brian’s every word. “Besides, you should _always_ tell someone when you’re meeting up with someone new! What if he had been up to no good?”

“In the middle of a busy café in London in broad fucking daylight?”

“You never know! That’s why you tell someone where you’ll be, just in case!”

Freddie’s door opens and Roger pokes his head inside. “Is that Brian?” he asks, and Freddie nods but motions for him to go away. Roger, predictably, doesn’t and instead takes a seat on Freddie’s bed to listen in on the conversation.

“Do you do this to all your friends, Freddie? Do you interrogate Joe and Phoebe and Roger after every date they have?”

Brian is proper angry now but so is Freddie, or at least it’s easier for him to get angry about this than to try to explain _why_ he’s so twisted up inside over the idea of Brian being on a date with anyone who isn’t him. “Sometimes, yes!” Freddie tells him. “And Roger would be the first to tell you how important it is to let others know where you’ll be-”

“Yeah, if you go out drinking and clubbing, I get that!” Brian interrupts, as Roger raises an eyebrow in surprise at Freddie’s heated words. “But I went for _coffee_!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

Brian makes a wordless noise of frustration and asks, “Just tell me one thing, would you be this upset if I was with a girl instead of a guy?”

Freddie freezes as he immediately realizes why Brian would be asking that. “Yes, of course!” he says a moment later, and it isn’t a lie. Freddie would be upset with Brian being on a date with _anyone_ \- man, woman, or any other gender in the world - but not for the reasons they’re arguing about. His split-second of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and the damage has already been done.

“You’re a shit fucking liar, Freddie,” Brian tells him. He’s not shouting but that only makes his anger sound sharper, and Freddie knows that he’s completely cocked this up.

“Brian, I-”

“Just because I’m not like you and haven’t been with a dozen guys before, that doesn’t mean I’m a blushing virgin or that I don’t know how to take care of myself,” Brian continues, each word dripping with a furious hurt. “I don’t need you worrying about me and I don’t want you meddling in this if I decide that I want to see this guy again.”

“Well, fine then!” Freddie snaps. Hot, angry tears are starting to prick at the corner of his eyes and he hates that a few pointed sentences from Brian are enough to tear his heart to shreds like this. “You go and have a thousand dates with this guy and I won’t fucking _meddle_ in a single one of them!”

“Good, I’ll do just that then!” Brian snaps back. “And in the meantime, you can stop showing up at my flat whenever you want to work on that tapestry! Would it kill you to actually text ahead instead of assuming I’ll just be around?”

“Oh fuck you Brian, and fuck your stupid tapestry!” Freddie stabs at his phone screen to hang up the call, but he’s pretty sure that Brian just manages to beat him to it and that only irritates him even more.

“Well, that sounds like it could have gone better,” Roger chimes in from where he’s still perched on the edge of Freddie’s bed.

“Oh piss off, Roger.” Freddie shoves his phone back into his pocket to stop himself from throwing it against the wall. He’s angry at Brian for some of the things that he said, but he’s mostly just angry at himself. He shouldn’t have reacted the way that he did, especially when he wasn’t really mad about Brian not telling him about the date but just upset that Brian wasn’t on a date with _him_.

And to think, he was planning on sharing his feelings with Brian earlier that afternoon. Maybe it’s a good thing that he never got the chance to embarrass himself like that. Clearly his idea to just speak from the heart was a _terrible_ one, considering how quickly this conversation went completely off the rails… but it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Brian obviously doesn’t return Freddie’s feelings - not if he’s going on dates with other men now, when Freddie has always been _right there_ and always so open in his affections, especially of late.

“Did I hear that right, though?” Roger asks. “Did Brian really-”

“Go on a date?” Freddie finishes for him. “Yes, he apparently did. Guess you were right about where he was after all.”

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” Roger says, and there’s a note of real sincerity in his voice that Freddie can’t stand to hear.

“Why? It’s all perfectly fine.” Freddie aims to sound flippant and misses it by a wide mile.

There’s a beat of silence from Roger before he says, a little quieter than before, “You need to talk to him.”

Freddie has never been more relieved to have kept a secret from Roger, because at least he doesn’t know that that had been Freddie’s plan earlier in the day. “I will. I’ll apologize to him tomorrow and everything will be fine-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Roger interrupts. “Well. That’s not the only thing I mean, and you know it.”

Freddie does but he keeps playing dumb anyway, as if refusing to acknowledge what Roger is really getting at here will be enough to protect the shattered pieces of his heart. “Well, I don’t have anything else to say to him. Just because I thought he was cute, that doesn’t mean I need to tell him that now that he’s-” he swallows roughly, “-he’s actually found someone that he likes.”

“Freddie-”

“Anyway, now that we know that Brian isn’t lying half dead in hospital somewhere, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Freddie asks quickly. He strides over to his shoebox-sized closet and makes a show of riffling through his clothes. “I’m thinking I might text Phoebe or Joe, see if one of them want to grab a late supper somewhere… Do you want to join us, darling?”

“No, I ate while you were sulking in here,” Roger says. There’s a beat of silence while Freddie steadfastly keeps his attention - or at least his gaze - focused on his closet. And then Roger asks, a little softer than before, “Are you sure you’re alright, Freddie?”

“Of course I am!” Freddie flashes Roger a grin over his shoulder - quick, so hopefully his friend can’t see how forced it really is. “Honestly, Rog, I’m _fine_. Just a bit bruised from that argument, but once Brian and I apologize we’ll both be right as rain.”

Freddie hears Roger slide off the bed. “If you say so,” he says, in a voice that perfectly conveys just how little he believes Freddie, and Freddie hides a wince behind one of his vintage jackets as Roger leaves the room.

The sound of the door closing behind him is too loud in the otherwise silent room, and the tears that Freddie has barely been holding back finally slip free.

“Stupid,” he mutters as he swipes furiously at his eyes. “Fucking _stupid_.” Because he was absolutely stupid to ruin one of the best things he had going for him because he couldn’t rein in his jealously long enough to just have a _normal_ conversation with Brian.

Freddie’s phone chimes and he can’t squash back the immediate heart-stopping burst of _hope_ that he feels, even though it’s not the alert tone that he set for Brian specifically. He digs his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands, unlocks it with a few quick swipes… and his stomach sinks when he sees it’s from an entirely unknown number.

He’s about to toss his phone onto his bed when he catches sight of part of the message, just enough that he pauses to read it.

 _ **Unknown:** hi Freddie. this is Tony. Paul’s friend.  
_ _idk if you got the text with my number but he gave me yours so I could apologize.  
_ _I’m sorry for the misunderstanding last weekend at the club.  
_ _let me make it up to you tonight? xx_

Freddie reads it once, twice, three times, mulling over the words and the offer laid before him.

Tony is attractive enough, sure, but there’s something about him that’s too similar to too many men who have broken Freddie’s heart in the past. And, unfortunately, being friends with Paul isn’t necessarily a point in his favor.

But Freddie is already heartbroken. He _hurts_ and he just wants to forget about Brian for a little while. Besides, he knows how to handle men like Tony: how to charm them, how to fuck, even how to date them - though whether that last one is a good idea is certainly up for debate. But no matter what Freddie does he keeps ending up with men like that because, as he told Brian outside of Vice Versa, those are the men who are interested in _him._

Other men, _better_ men, don’t want Freddie. They don’t want men who have been with dozens others already. Brian had only confirmed as much during their argument.

Freddie shakes his head, as if he can physically shake away that thought, and before he loses his nerve he texts back.

 **Freddie:** i’d love that.  
 _just name a time and place darling 😘_

The response comes back almost immediately. Tony names a place not too far from Vice - a bar, not a club but still more boisterous than going out to a restaurant for a real date - and tells Freddie to meet him in an hour. Freddie quickly texts back to confirm that he’ll be there, and then launches into preparations for the evening. He showered that morning, thank god, and his outfit would be fine except he picked it out for _Brian_ and he can’t stomach the thought of wearing it out to meet anyone else. So he changes into something else, something with tighter trousers and a dressier shirt, and he makes sure to wipe any trace of tears from his face before leaving his room.

Roger looks up from his laptop as Freddie bustles through the living room, quickly grabbing his wallet and shoving his feet into his nicer pair of shoes. He gives Freddie a once-over and there’s a slight frown on his face, because he knows what an outfit like that means, but thankfully all he asks is, “So you are going out then?”

“Yes, with my friends.” Paul _is_ a friend, after all, and Freddie is sure he’ll be around somewhere so it’s not _entirely_ a lie. The hypocrisy of not telling the full truth after he just fought with Brian about this makes Freddie’s chest tight with guilt, but he knows what Roger’s response would be if he told him what his real plans were and Freddie cannot deal with that right now. “I’ll most likely be spending the night at one of their flats, so don’t wait up for me, alright?”

Roger doesn’t look happy, but he also doesn’t push the issue and Freddie is grateful for that. “Alright. Just… take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Don’t I always?” Freddie says with a slightly-forced laugh. He blows Roger a kiss as he leaves, and he prays that his friend couldn’t see the tell-tale outline of a strip of condoms tucked in his back pocket.


	9. Chapter 9

When Brian had finally left his near-disaster of a date and had seen the dozens of missed texts and calls from both Freddie and Roger, his immediate response was one of panic. Assuming the worst, he quickly scrolled through the messages while standing on the sidewalk outside the café, completely uncaring of the people forced to walk around him. It wasn’t until he got back to the beginning, and saw that Freddie had simply stopped by his flat and found that he wasn’t home, that the frustration that he had been fighting against for the entirety of the date finally spills over.

He’s not angry with Freddie, not exactly. Even when he’s accusing Freddie of meddling and babying him and being overprotective, he’s not really angry _at_ him. Freddie is just the unfortunate outlet, the victim that Brian rails against when he really wants to be railing against himself. Because Brian _is_ mad at himself - for going on a date with a stranger that he ends up having barely anything in common, for not being able to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Freddie no matter how hard he tried, for not being able to explain any of this and instead lashing out at a friend whose only crime was to care about him.

But Brian’s always been too good at hurting those closest to him, too stubborn to back down from any dispute and too quick to deal out cutting insults without thinking through what he’s actually saying.

_Just because I’m not like you and haven’t been with a dozen guys before,_ he had thrown in Freddie’s face, and every time Brian thinks back on those words now he kind of wants to put his head through his living room wall.

He wants to apologize and beg for Freddie’s forgiveness immediately, but he makes himself wait. If Freddie is still angry at him - and, god, he’d have every right to be absolutely _furious_ with him - then Brian doesn’t want to reignite their stupid argument by reaching out too soon. So he forces himself to wait through a sleepless night, and the shift he picked up in the tutoring center the following morning, and his undergrad class in the afternoon, before finally reaching out to Freddie again.

_**Brian:** I’m sorry for everything I said yesterday. I was in a _ _foul  
mood but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. I do appreciate   
that you want to look out for me and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about   
the date and accused you of meddling when you were just trying to help   
me out. I hope you can forgive me. -Bri_

He reads over the text about a dozen times before he sends it, nitpicking each individual word until he’s convinced that it’s as perfect as he can make it, though that doesn’t stop Brian from pacing anxiously around his flat as he waits for Freddie to respond.

If he even responds at all.

God, what is Brian going to do if Freddie just ignores him completely? What is the _band_ going to do if Freddie and Brian aren’t talking anymore? What will happen with the album they’re recording or the shows they have booked? Queen can’t afford to lose Freddie and his voice, so no doubt Brian will have to be the one to leave… Well, his dad at least will be happy about that, for whatever good that’ll do Brian.

Brian is in the middle of mentally composing the resignation text that he’s going to send to the Queen group chat when his phone chimes. His stomach immediately bottoms out as pure adrenaline spikes through his body, sending his heart racing and making him shake with nerves as he steels himself to check the message.

It’s from Freddie. Even seeing his name on the notification is enough to make his anxiety skyrocket, but Brian forces himself to open it to read even though he’s not sure he can handle seeing a nasty response from Freddie - no matter how deserved it might be.

_**Freddie:** oh brian thank u for the apology but im sorry too.   
i was worried but i shouldnt have overreacted like that.  
_ _of course i forgive u. i hope u can forgive me too?_

“Oh thank god.” Brian collapses down onto his couch as his legs almost give out underneath him. Freddie isn’t angry with him and Brian could almost cry with relief right now.

_**Brian:** You don’t have anything to apologize for! But if you need my forgiveness  
_ _you absolutely have it. And I really am sorry for last night. I shouldn’t  
_ _have said the things I did to you. -Bri_

_**Freddie:** its alright! water under the bridge right?  
_ _im just glad you forgive me for how I acted too._

There’s something slightly off in Freddie’s text messages that Brian can’t quite put a finger on. They’re less effusive, somehow. It’s there in the missing exclamation marks. The flat tone. The “Brian” instead of “Brimi” or any of the endearments he usually uses. Maybe he’s not actually as forgiving as he wants to seem. Or maybe he’s just tired - god knows Brian didn’t get any sleep last night himself.

_**Brian:** Of course I forgive you, Freddie. You’re one of my best friends,  
_ _there’s nothing you could do that I would ever change that. Do  
_ _you want to come over tonight? I’ll pay for takeaway for once. -Bri_

It takes Brian a few minutes to compose the message perfectly and get it sent. He’s really hoping that Freddie can stop by. He needs the reassurance that Freddie isn’t lying about forgiving Brian, yes, but if he’s being honest he mostly just wants to see his friend. After his terrible date yesterday Brian knows exactly where his feelings for Freddie stand but he doesn’t care anymore about making them worse or trying to get over this entirely. He just wants hang out with Freddie, like they’ve done so many times since Brian has moved into this flat, and maybe then he’ll finally be able to relax for the first time in nearly two days.

Freddie’s response is slow coming. So slow, in fact, that Brian cooks dinner and forces himself to eat it even though his stomach is still in knots. He pulls out his thesis notes and his laptop and at least tries to work, though if he doesn’t make much progress. He eventually puts on his vinyl copy of _The Planets_ suite, starting it on the B-side with _Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age_ but it doesn’t comfort him as much as it usually does. It just reminds him of Freddie, and the night he put this on to help Brian relax.

Brian turns in for the night before Freddie ever replies to his text, and he’s pretty sure that he only manages to sleep because he hadn’t at all the night before. But there is a response waiting for him when he wakes up the next morning, sent late after midnight, and simply apologizing for missing Brian’s text earlier.

_**Brian:** No worries, Freddie. What are your plans for today? -Bri_

Again, it takes longer than Brian is expecting for a reply from Freddie to finally come through, nearly a full hour this time.

_**Freddie:** busy unfortunately. some design projects, picking up the earnings from the shop…  
_ _plans with friends for tonight._

Brian frowns down at his phone. Why does that still seem _off_ somehow? It’s not that Freddie is being vague, but he’s not being as detailed as he usually is - naming the friends that he’s going out with, rambling about the freelance project that he no doubt hates… Nothing so specific that Brian feels like he can ask Freddie if something is wrong, not so soon after their fight, but it’s still enough to make Brian concerned.

_**Brian:** Ah, well that is busy! I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow, though? -Bri_

_**Freddie:** of course!!_

That should be a relief, but it somehow it just misses the mark. Brian hasn’t seen Freddie since Friday night after their show and the last four days without him have been nearly unbearable. His attempt to get over Freddie didn’t _fail_ so much as miserably crash and burn, and if anything his attraction to Freddie is even more undeniable than it was before - but right now, Brian doesn’t care. Right now he just wants to see Freddie. He wants to reassure himself that everything is alright between them. He wants Freddie to come back to his flat and work on the tapestry, and Brian wants to pretend that he can somehow keep those moments in his life forever.

Brian beats Freddie into the studio the next evening. That on its own isn’t an unusual occurrence; when left to his own devices, Freddie _always_ runs slightly late to everything no matter what the occasion. What is unusual, though, is that Roger is there already even though Freddie isn’t. Despite their odd freelance jobs leading to even odder schedules they still live together, and they almost always show up to the studio or gigs together.

“Where’s Freddie?” Brian asks as he opens up his guitar case to start getting ready to record.

“On his way, apparently,” Roger says.

Brian looks up at him, frowning a little. “What do you mean, _apparently?”_

“I mean, he texted that he was on his way but I haven’t actually seen him today,” Roger says. “He was out with his other friends last night, spent the night at their place instead of coming home.”

“Oh. Right.” Freddie had mentioned that he had plans with friends, when he texted Brian yesterday morning… but Brian didn’t realize that those plans involved going out late, _staying_ out late, and not going home after. It’s the sort of thing that Freddie used to do more often before he switched to spending his time hanging out with Brian.

It’s the sort of thing that Brian used to worry that Freddie missed, before Freddie assured him that he wasn’t interested in nights like that anymore… but maybe going back out to Vice Versa had made Freddie realize that he did miss all that after all?

John must be thinking along the same lines because he chimes in with, “That’s a little odd, isn’t it? Him staying out that late in the middle of the week again.”

Roger shrugs. “Yeah, but he’s been in a bit of a mood for the last few days. I wasn’t about to question it and set him off again.”

“Why was he in a mood?”

Roger’s eyes flick over to Brian, and Brian sighs and admits, “That would be my fault. We got into a fight on Sunday.”

“You two? A fight?” John raises an eyebrow in surprise. “What about?”

“Just some stupid shit-”

“Brian went on a date, and Freddie threw a fit that he didn’t know anything about it,” Roger says bluntly.

John’s eyebrows have practically disappeared into his hairline. “You went on a _date_?” he echoes, and the genuine shock in his voice is a little insulting to hear.

“That is known to happen, from time to time,” Brian mumbles, as he feels his face start to flush bright red.

“Yeah, but not any time recently,” John points out, though Brian has a sinking feeling that what he really means is, _Since you started spending so much time with Freddie_.

“Anyway,” Roger says, accompanying the word with a few quick hits on his drums. “Freddie didn’t say much more than that, but from what I can tell you were both acting like idiots. So if you could _please_ try not to start arguing again during rehearsal-”

“We’ve already apologized to each other,” Brian interrupts. “So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Roger hums and twirls a drumstick between his fingers, but doesn’t actually say anything in response - at least, not before the door bursts open and Freddie whirls into the studio.

“Sorry I’m late, darlings! What’s the plan for tonight?” Freddie asks. On the outside he’s his usual bundle of energy as he tosses his bag down and throws his jacket over the chair, filling up the entire room with his personality in the way that only Freddie Mercury can. And yet, when he finally turns to face them, there’s bags under his eyes and his smile seems just the slightest bit strained.

John and Roger exchange a quick look, which Brian almost misses entirely as his heart lurches painfully in his chest at the sight of Freddie. He wants to apologize all over again, he wants to pull Freddie into his arms and hold him close, he wants to ask him what’s going on and if everything is alright, he wants to kiss him, he wants-

“We still have some backing tracks to sort out, let’s start with those, yeah?” John suggests, cutting into Brian’s thoughts. “Sorry, Bri, I know that doesn’t give you much to do…”

“That’s alright, I’m fine listening to your parts and offering up advice,” Brian says.

“Offering up criticisms, you mean,” Roger says with enough of a grin to let Brian know that he’s at least partially joking.

“Brian’s criticisms still manage to have _some_ merit to them,” Freddie says, and the ease with which he jumps to Brian’s defense makes some of Brian’s worry start to fade away - at least until he tries to catch Freddie’s eye, and Freddie doesn’t seem to notice at all.

And as Brian watches Freddie play with John and Roger as they work out the piano, bass, and drums for a new backing track, he can almost believe that Freddie is maybe just a little tired. His playing is still superb and he joins in with his usual joking between takes, even if it sometimes comes a beat later than his quick-fire responses normally would. He doesn’t ignore Brian when he chimes in with some comment or suggestion, but when the band takes a break partway through the session Freddie also doesn’t make a beeline to join Brian on the shitty old couch like has been their routine.

Roger and John exchange another quick look and duck out of the room, leaving Brian sitting where he is and Freddie in a rickety folding chair a few feet away. There’s silence between them for a moment, broken only by the sound of Freddie tapping out some text on his phone, and then Brian says, “Freddie, I- I know I already apologized, but I just wanted to say-”

“Brian, dear, you don’t have to apologize again,” Freddie says. He looks up from his phone and smiles at Brian, and it’s friendly but it’s missing _something_ that used to be there before, something that Brian can’t put his finger on now that it’s gone. “We both got a little too heated in the moment and said things that we shouldn’t have, but everything is fine now, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” Brian says, and that should be the end of it - but the distance between their seats feels insurmountable, and when they start working on Brian’s guitar part Freddie stays behind the recording desk instead of hovering by Brian’s side out in the studio like he usually tries to do. He’s as friendly as ever but Brian has grown so used to the _intimacy_ that they shared that mere friendliness stings as badly as any rejection.

It’s not just Brian imagining things, either. Roger and John have spotted the difference in Freddie as well, if their concerned glances in his direction are any indication, and that’s even more worrying. If it’s not just Brian reading too much into things, if it’s not his feelings for Freddie making him take everything too personally… then what is going on with him?

He gets his answer once Roy calls a wrap on their recording session for that evening. This time it’s John who asks the room at large, “Want to grab a bite? I’m starved.”

“No plans with Ronnie?” Roger asks.

John shakes his head. “She’s catching some talk down at the university with friends tonight, so she’ll be out late.”

“I’ll be out late too,” Freddie says, and when everyone turns to give him a questioning look he shrugs and offers up an apologetic smile. “Sorry, darlings, I already have plans and I’m actually running behind schedule for them now.”

“You aren’t going out again, are you?” Roger asks. “Fred, that’s the third night in a row!”

“ _Third_ night?” Brian echoes. One or two nights he could understand, but _three_? “But I didn’t think Joe and Phoebe wanted to keep going out that often anymore.”

He knows for a fact that they don’t, not unless something has drastically changed that he hasn’t heard about. After all, Brian was the one who read through the messages in Freddie’s group chat the night that Paul was fighting with everyone.

Freddie bites his lip and makes a face, and for a moment Brian honestly thinks that he’s not going to say anything at all. But then he forces a laugh and flashes them an amused smirk and says, “I’m not going out with _them_. If you must know, I’ve been out with Paul and a few others, including this _gorgeous_ sweetheart who I’ve taken quite a fancy to.”

Brian feels his heart completely break. The pain of it all robs him of the ability to speak, to breathe, to even _think_. He knew, deep down, that there was no way that Freddie shared his feelings but having it thrown in his face like this is absolutely unbearable. Even Roger looks taken aback by Freddie’s announcement - or maybe just by the tone in which it’s delivered, the obvious front that Freddie puts on that he’s never felt the need to use around them before.

John is the only one of them with enough sense to even respond to Freddie. “Well it’s always nice to meet someone you like,” he says, mild and polite in that way that only John ever seems to manage to be. “What’s his name then?”

Freddie hesitates for a second before saying, “Tony.”

The name means nothing to Brian, and Roger seems to be equally clueless as well. It’s only John who reacts, with a slight frown and an uneasy note in his voice when he asks, “That wouldn’t be the same Tony that Paul mentioned that night at Vice Versa, would it?”

Freddie looks genuinely surprised for a moment, like he didn’t expect any of them to make that connection, but he quickly becomes defensive and says, “What if it is?”

“Freddie, you can’t be serious! He was a complete arse to you at the club!” Brian says, and it’s a struggle to keep his anger out of his voice. _This_ is who Freddie has taken a fancy to? The guy who groped him and wouldn’t take no for an answer?

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Freddie says tersely. “He’s not that bad, once you get to know him!”

“Not that bad isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” John points out.

“Well I don’t need _you_ all to like him! All that matters is that I do!” Freddie snaps.

“And do you? Do you _really_ like him?” Roger asks, skeptical. “Because it wasn’t too long ago that you were-”

“Yes, Rog. I _do_ like Tony,” Freddie cuts in before Roger can finish whatever he was going to say. “I did exactly what you told me to do and thought about what I wanted, and right now this is it.”

Roger has a pinched look on his face, as if he just swallowed a lemon. John looks equally unhappy with what Freddie is saying, and Freddie looks like he’s bracing himself for a proper argument to break out over his choice in partners. And in that moment, Brian can see exactly how that fight would play out, so similar to how it did on Sunday with harsh words flung back and forth and Freddie putting even more distance between them to protect himself from their criticisms.

Brian doesn’t think he can stand for that to happen. It’s already unbearable, having Freddie be polite and friendly but holding himself ever-so-slightly apart from Brian like he has been all evening. There’s no way that Brian can let that become any worse than it already is.

“Well, if you’re happy with him then I’m happy for you,” Brian tells him, and he finds that it’s not entirely a lie. The thought of _that man_ putting his hands on Freddie still makes his stomach turn and his blood boil, but all Brian has ever wanted is for Freddie to be happy.

And if he found that happiness with someone other than Brian… Well, then so be it.

Freddie swallows roughly and when he looks over at Brian there’s something almost resigned in his expression for a moment, before he smiles and his face brightens a little and he says, simply, “Thank you, my darling.”

Freddie goes his separate way once they leave the studio, and Brian tries not to think about the people he’ll be with or what he’ll spend his evening doing as he watches him walk away. Somehow Roger and John end up going with Brian back to his flat. If there was a discussion of that happening Brian doesn’t remember it, but he finds that he doesn’t really have it in him to cause a fuss about it. It’s more than a little strange not having Freddie there as well and Brian feels his absence like a physical pain in his chest, but he knows it would be so much worse to be entirely alone right now instead.

It’s clear that Roger, at least, is still stewing about that last conversation at the studio. He sulks in the living room while John helps Brian throw together a quick dinner, and stays quiet even when John and Brian stop talking about their coursework and move onto discussing their progress in the studio and griping about the recording schedule that Trident has given them.

“You’re awful quiet,” John says to Roger at last when they’re all almost done eating and Roger still hasn’t said more than half a dozen words. “Upset about Freddie?”

Brian’s stomach drops at the mention of Freddie and he ducks his head, as if simply pretending that he can’t hear this conversation will be enough to stop it all from hurting him again.

Roger rolls his eyes and gives an exasperated sigh. “I just can’t fucking believe him, y’know? Bad enough that he’s hooking up with one of Paul’s friends, but to not say anything about it-”

“Well, you said it yourself, he’s been in a mood lately. He probably just didn’t want to deal with your reaction,” John points out.

“But if something had happened to him, no one would’ve known where he was or who he was with. That’s why we have that fucking rule in the first place.” Roger glances over at Brian and adds, “Not that he wasn’t still being an ass to you about your date on Sunday, but-”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” Brian interrupts. “Freddie can see who he wants and there’s nothing we can about it, so let’s just change the subject.”

“Well there’s something that one of us could do something about it…” Roger mutters under his breath.

Brian shoots him a quizzical look. “What?”

John elbows Roger roughly in the side, and they’re all squashed so close together on the cough that there’s no way for him to avoid it. Roger yelps loudly, as John says to Brian, “You were the only one who seemed alright with the situation when we were back at the studio.”

“I just didn’t want to fight with Freddie again, that’s all,” Brian says, a little mumbled, because he’s emphatically _not_ alright with the situation at all but he doesn’t want to get interrogated about that now.

Luckily, the mention of their last fight works well as a subject change and John says, “Ah, yes. The fight about your date. How’d that go, anyway?”

“The fight?”

“The _date_ ,” John says with a small laugh. “What was her name- his name?”

“His name was Josh, and the date was a bit of a disaster,” Brian admits.

“What happened?”

Brian shrugs. “We just… didn’t mesh, I suppose, and the date dragged on for longer than it probably should.” Truthfully it dragged on because Brian was too polite to leave, and Josh was too self-centered to pick up on Brian’s disinterest.

“It was one coffee date. How bad could it have been?” Roger asks.

“Well, he’s a musician too but he spent a long time ranting about how anyone who signs with a traditional label is ‘selling out’,” Brian says, miming quotation marks around the words, and both Roger and John make disgusted faces at that.

“Fuck him, then,” Roger says decisively. “Can’t be hard to find someone better than that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Brian says, but he knows that he’s not going to keep looking. Using Tinder was a frustrating exercise in sifting through too many profiles of straight men, and the idea of using Grindr is still too intimidating to Brian.

More than that, though, is the fact that his date with Josh _did_ make one thing clearer to him. Brian knows now that what he feels for Freddie isn’t a fleeting thing at all. It’s not just physical, it’s not just lust, and he’s certainly not “fixating” on Freddie just because he happens to be around. It’s something deeper, something that’s taken root in Brian’s heart, something that makes it impossible for Brian to keep Freddie out of his thoughts even when he’s on a date with someone else.

It’s something that, if Brian had to put a name on it now, could probably be called love - only he’s arrived at that conclusion far too late to do anything about it.

“You’ll find someone, Brian,” John tells him. “And when you do, make sure you _tell them how you feel_. That’s the most important thing you can do.”

Brian nods, but can’t force out any words no matter how hard he tries. He’s already lost his chance to say anything to Freddie, now that he’s apparently with Tony.

With little else to be said after that, and dinner long since finished, Roger and John head out a short while later. Brian stands up to say goodbye, gives some vague and largely insincere comment about how they have to hang out like this again - though Brian wants to do nothing of the sort, not if Freddie isn’t here as well - and closes and locks his door behind them. It’s only as he turns back towards his couch that he finds himself looking at the tapestry, and the still-unfinished bottom corner.

The only section that’s still missing a base coat is, ironically enough, a boxy design with _YOU ARE LOVED_ written in a hideous script. The rest of the bottom section has already been painted black, and some areas already have delicate silver celestial designs layered on top of that. It’s just this one spot that’s inexplicably still bare. No doubt it’s what Freddie wanted to work on this past Sunday, when Brian was busy being miserable on his date.

God, what Brian wouldn’t give to travel back in time and cancel that date so he could stay home with Freddie instead. Even if they still ended up here, with Brian heartbroken and Freddie out with another man, at least Brian wouldn’t have to stare at those mocking words left on the tapestry.

He checks his phone, hoping against all hope that there’s a message from Freddie telling him that he’ll be by later in the evening or stopping by tomorrow or _something_ \- but there’s nothing. And Brian can’t handle that, suddenly he can’t handle _anything_. Not Freddie’s new relationship, not his too-quiet flat, and not this damn tapestry reminding him of everything that he’s seemingly lost in one fell swoop.

All of Freddie’s painting supplies are still sitting out on the small table sitting by Brian’s door, the table that Freddie brought over in the first place. The paints and brushes get swept carelessly into their storage box and Brian drags the table over so it’s positioned in front of the unfinished section of the tapestry. The box and Freddie’s palette both get shoved underneath the table, where Freddie can easily find them when he comes back to finish working on the tapestry.

If he ever comes back.

And if he doesn’t… Well, at least now Brian can pretend that he can’t see the art supplies or the unfinished section or anything that would remind him of those intimate evenings with Freddie at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Brief sexual content, one very brief reference to past abusive relationships, possible emetophobia warning (Freddie is nauseous but doesn’t actually get sick), mentions of excessive drinking, some manipulation with regards to sex, and references to rough (consensual) sex including bruises.

Consciousness slams into Freddie with a brutal force, and on its heels comes the headache and nausea that’s become his near-constant morning companion over the last few weeks. Freddie grits his teeth to hold back the pitiful moan that wants to escape, and takes a few deep breaths to try to settle his stomach enough to open his eyes.

The first cautious blink is still a mistake as the bright sunlight flooding the room only makes his head throb even more, and Freddie whimpers and pulls the blankets over his head to try to block out the light. The bedsheets reek of sex, a stale scent that’s doing nothing to help with Freddie’s nausea. He gags, but keeps the contents of his stomach down, and after a few moments he tries opening his eyes again. Freddie lets his eyes adjust to the dimmer light filtering through the blankets, before tentatively poking his head back out and trying once again to look at his surroundings.

This time, he’s more successful. The headache is still there, pounding in his temples and behind his eyes, and the nausea hasn’t lessened at all, but Freddie is at least able to find his phone to check the time. It’s late, nearly noon already, and he has a several missed texts and at least one call from Roger, all of which he ignores for the time being as he sets his phone aside again and rolls over to stare up at the ceiling of Tony’s bedroom.

If Freddie was back in his own flat, he knows that Roger would have mint tea and toast waiting for him in the kitchen when he finally crawled out of bed. Roger may not be happy that Freddie is going out more nights of the week than not, but he’s at least not heartless enough to leave Freddie to deal with his hangover alone. Tony isn’t heartless either, but he is seemingly immune to hangovers and has often already left for the day by the time that Freddie finally wakes up, leaving Freddie to scrounge up painkillers and instant coffee in a kitchen that’s usually completely devoid of proper groceries.

He likes going out with Tony well enough, but there’s no denying that the mornings after are a little lonely and bleak. Freddie keeps telling himself that he’s going to stop accepting every single one of Tony’s invitations to go out to some bar or club, but it’s hard to say no after a band rehearsal spent trying keep some distance between him and Brian or an afternoon with Roger where he keeps asking if Freddie is _sure_ that he’s happy these days. It’s hard to say no when Freddie does find happiness, of a sort, with Tony; when he grins at Freddie, when he kisses him and touches him and promises to show him a good time, Freddie feels almost _loved_.

And that’s all he’s ever wanted, isn’t it? So what if it looks a bit different than he thought it would? So what if it comes with more drinking and partying, and fewer moments of quiet intimacy? Tony still isn’t as bad as some of the men Freddie’s dated in the past. He doesn’t take his anger out on Freddie and the sex is never forced, even if it is sometimes rougher than Freddie prefers. Tony isn’t like Brian, but Freddie doesn’t think he could stand to be with anyone quite like Brian anyway so this is all perfectly fine instead.

His phone chimes with a new text. The loud sound pierces his skull and makes his head pound even more, and Freddie momentarily contemplates smothering himself with a pillow just to make the agony _stop_. He fumbles for his phone with one hand, almost knocking it off the nightstand before he manages to get a proper grip on it, and eventually manages to open up his messages to see who the hell is bothering him.

_**Roger:** if u arnt going to show up at least fucking let us kno_

Freddie reads it a few times, trying to make sense of it and utterly failing to do so. It takes him a few long moments to realize that it might help if he also looked at the rest of the messages he missed while he was passed out, and once he does that the situation becomes much clearer.

_**Trident:** Cancellation. 11am-2pm. Yes/No?_

**_Brian:_ ** _We’ll be there. -Bri_

A quick glance at the Queen group chat reveals even more information.

_**Roger:** i can make it. anyone else?_

_**John:** I can._

_**Brian:** So I can. I replied to Trident already. -Bri_

_**Roger:** fred???_

_**John:** he’s not with you?_

_**Roger:** no  
_ _stayed at tonys last night  
_ _i left before he made it home  
_ _if he’s made it home yet_

 _ **John:** We need to record his vocals at some point we’re falling  
_ _behind with those._

_**Brian:** We still have plenty to work on besides the vocals and  
piano. We’ll be alright even if he doesn’t show up. -Bri_

_**Roger:** yeah but he’d better fucking show up  
freddie  
_ _you’d better show up_

Freddie checks the time again. It’s 12:25pm now, and Queen only has the studio until 2pm.

“Shit. Shit!” Freddie swears as he scrambles out of bed. He already missed one of these last-minute recording sessions entirely the previous week, so he quickly texts the band that he’ll be there ASAP and tosses his phone back on the bed as he tries to find where his clothes ended up last night so he can get dressed.

Freddie doesn’t know how he makes it into the studio without throwing up all over the London Underground, but somehow he does and he makes it into the studio with just under an hour left in the recording session.

“Sorry I’m late, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles as he bursts into the control room. John is recording an isolated bass line, so it’s only Roger and Brian who look his way as he enters - and Roy, who only glances up for a moment before turning his attention back to the mixing desk.

“Glad you finally showed up,” Roger says, a little crossly, but Freddie deserves that. He gives Freddie a quick once-over and raises an eyebrow. “Are you in any shape to record?”

“Yes,” Freddie says, though he can hear how raspy his voice is. Roger’s eyebrow raises a little higher and Freddie clears his throat and adds, “Maybe just some piano parts, though?”

Roger sighs, and Freddie swallows down an uncomfortable surge of guilt. “Well, we definitely have plenty of those to get through and John could probably use a break by now. You good to jump right in?”

Freddie would resent the question more if his stomach didn’t choose that exact moment to start doing somersaults again. “Of course… if I can get some tea first, maybe?”

“I’ll get you a cuppa,” Brian offers. He smiles at Freddie but it’s not as bright as it used to be, and it doesn’t quite linger around the corners of his mouth like it once did. Freddie needed to put some distance between them, for his own sake, but it’s worked a little too well and the changes to their friendship hurt just as much as the intimacy that Freddie was so desperate to avoid.

Brian stands and Freddie moves aside to let him pass by - but Brian pauses by him for a moment anyway, his face screwing up in a look of confusion before realization about _something_ dawns in his eyes.

“Brian?” Freddie prompts, as a bright flush starts to bloom across Brian’s face and down his neck. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah.” Brian clears his throat. “Sorry, yeah, just got- just got distracted for a moment, I’ll go get that tea-” And with that he all but bolts out of the room.

Freddie stares after him, and then turns to look at Roger. “Was that odd, or am I just too hungover?”

“You’re definitely too hungover,” Roger says without hesitation. He takes a few steps towards Freddie, frowns, and gives a few sniffs. “Did you come here right from Tony’s?”

“Yes, but what does that-?”

“You reek of sex,” Roger says bluntly. “You didn’t shower, did you?”

Freddie winces, and tries to discreetly smell himself - and now that it’s been pointed out to him he knows that Roger is right, and he feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. “No, of course I didn’t shower. You think I missed all your texts and then wasted more time by showering?”

“No, but you might’ve at least considered it.” Roger squeezes past him and, just before the door closes shut behind him, Freddie thinks he hears Roger mutter something that might be, “Fucking idiots, the both of you.”

Freddie detours to the toilet to at least splash some water on his face, and by the time he actually makes it to the piano there’s a cup of tea sitting next to it. Brian is already back in the control room but even if Freddie hadn’t known that the tea was brought by him, he would have been able to guess it anyway. The tea is made exactly the way he likes it, without the extra sugar that Roger adds and not steeped so long that it turns bitter like John takes his.

It makes a small lump form in Freddie’s throat, which he tries to swallow down with a few sips of the tea before Roy asks if he’s ready to start.

Freddie’s first playthrough is rough; he knows that even without having to see the unimpressed looks from the others as they watch and listen from the other room. But as the tea settles his stomach he starts to find his groove, and by the time 2 o’clock rolls around and their time is up they have at least one usable piano track laid down. Given how Freddie’s day started, he’ll gladly count that as a win.

Brian makes a quick retreat out of the studio, and Freddie watches him leave with a heaviness on his heart that never quite manages to disappear no matter how many times he kisses Tony or falls into his bed. John says his goodbyes too but Freddie doesn’t really hear them. He’s too lost in his thoughts, wishing that he could go back to Brian’s flat one last time but not knowing how to ask if he’s welcome when Brian stopped extending those invitations weeks ago.

“Oi, earth to Freddie!” Roger says, finally bringing Freddie out of his morose thoughts. “What are your plans for tonight then, hm?”

Freddie shrugs. “Tony was gone when I woke up, and he hasn’t texted me yet so I don’t know.”

“Well, what about making plans with me for a change?” Roger asks as they leave the studio and set off down the sidewalk, falling into step with each other without even meaning to. “We need to figure out how we’re making rent next month, and… I mean, no offense, Fred, but you need to rest a little. We have a show tomorrow night, and your voice will be shot if you spend another night out drinking.”

Freddie hesitates and he hates himself for that, but agreeing to Roger’s suggestion isn’t an easy or immediate “yes” anymore. Not when it comes with a night of less-than-subtle comments about Brian, loud sighs every time Freddie’s phone chimes with a new text from Tony or Paul, or pointed questions about how Phoebe and Joe are doing when Roger _knows_ that it’s been far too long since Freddie has had the time to see them.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut about everything, I promise,” Roger says, as if he can read Freddie’s thoughts. And maybe he can - they’re closer than brothers, after all, and if Freddie is an open book to anyone it would certainly be him. “No comments about Brian, no comments about _anything_ … Just the two of us hanging out like old times, yeah?”

Freddie swallows roughly and he feels his resolve start to crumble. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. That sounds fantastic, darling.”

Roger beams at him, and Freddie manages a small smile through the guilt rising in his throat like bile.

Roger rambles on while they walk, some story about a wild customer down at the consignment shop that he heard secondhand from one of the art students the last time he stopped by. He doesn’t mention that it had actually been Freddie’s turn to run by the shop to pick up their profits, and he doesn’t point out how long it’s been since Freddie has helped him find new vintage items to drop off. Freddie is already well aware of the things he hasn’t done, the countless responsibilities he’s forgotten to take care of every time he spends the evening with Tony. Freddie never means to let things slide, but somehow between the drunken nights and hungover mornings everything slips through the cracks despite his intentions.

Roger’s right. Freddie does need to rest a little, and a quiet night at home should do the trick nicely.

“...and then she asked if I’d sell her the jacket I was wearing and I told her no. Mostly because it was yours, so you’re welcome for that, but if we don’t have the cash for rent then I just might-” Roger’s story gets interrupted by his phone chiming with a new text, and he digs it out of his pocket to check it. “You might want to reply to the group chat,” he says as he types out a response. “Brian’s asking about stage outfits for tomorrow.”

“Why’s he asking about that?” Freddie asks, frowning, as he pats his trouser pockets, looking for his phone.

“He forgot to get the Zandra tunic washed. He’s going to wear one of his old outfits, probably some black shirt and chunky necklace combo,” Roger tells him. “Doesn’t matter for me or John, not really, but…” He glances over at Freddie. “Well, it might change _your_ plans.”

It shouldn’t. Freddie can still wear his tunic, after all; it might be a bit more showy than their old outfits, but if anyone can pull off having a showier look it would be Freddie. Except wearing his angel-wing tunic if Brian isn’t wearing his just feels wrong, somehow. They’re supposed to be a matching pair and Brian wearing something else feels like a slight against Freddie, even if the rational part of his mind knows that it’s nothing of the sort.

“Mm, yes, well… Maybe I’ll just wear one of my jumpsuits instead. That tunic can get _so_ hot when I don’t have a chance to change out of it, you know,” Freddie says casually, and he slips his hands into his jacket pockets to see if he stashed his phone there instead.

“Right. Of course,” Roger says. “You want to reply to his text, then?”

“Yeah, just as soon as I find my fucking phone.” It’s not in his jacket and he checks his trouser pockets again, just in case, but it’s not there either. “Shit. _Shit_. I left it somewhere.” That would certainly explain why he didn’t hear it go off when Brian texted the group chat.

“What, your phone? Is it back at the studio?” Roger asks.

Freddie keeps patting down all his pockets, in case his phone decides to magically reappear somewhere. “No, I didn’t take it out while we were recording.”

“Then where did you last have it?”

Freddie tries to think back through the memories made hazy by both his hangover and his rush to get to the studio. He didn’t have it out while he was on the Underground, so that means that he last had it… He vaguely remembers tossing the phone onto Tony’s bed while he got dressed, and he can only imagine that that’s where it is now.

“Back at Tony’s place, I think,” he admits.

Roger groans. “Any chance you’d be willing to leave it there until tomorrow?”

“If I don’t get it now there’s no telling when I’ll get it back,” Freddie says. Tony’s schedule is erratic, at best; knowing Freddie’s luck he’d miss Tony in the morning, and with their show tomorrow night he certainly won’t be able to pick it up then. “I’ll just run over there quick and grab it and then meet you back at home.”

“Or we could both head over-”

“Rog, there’s no reason for both of us to go traipsing halfway across London!” Freddie laughs, but it slowly fades as he realizes that Roger doesn’t look nearly as amused about the situation… and he has a sinking suspicion that he knows why. “You don’t trust me to come back home, do you?”

Roger shrugs and scuffs the toe of his shoe along the sidewalk. “You normally don’t, once you meet up with Tony. That’s all.”

It’s not an unfair accusation, but it still hurts to hear it said so plainly. Freddie hates being the sort of person who abandons his friends the moment he gets into a relationship but it’s hard to avoid falling into that role in this case, when none of them like Paul and they still hold a grudge against Tony for his behavior that night at Vice Versa. If they won’t all get along together then Freddie has to pick a side… and it’s hard to think about going back home when Tony is kissing his neck and worming a hand down Freddie’s trousers.

“I’ll come home. I promise,” Freddie says with as much seriousness and sincerity that he can muster. He digs out his wallet and hands Roger one of his credit cards. “Here, you go ahead and order dinner for us. I’ll run to Tony’s place and meet you back at home before you know it.”

“Alright,” Roger says after a moment, and he takes Freddie’s card. “I’ll see you soon then, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Freddie says, and he prays that it doesn’t end up being a lie. He’s not even sure if Tony is home or what he’s going to do if he isn’t there. He’ll probably have to leave and forget about ever getting his phone back, which is a possibility that he doesn’t particularly relish.

Luckily, his worries are for naught because when he knocks on Tony’s door he only has to wait a moment for it to be opened.

“Freddie! I didn’t expect you to be dropping by,” Tony says, surprised. He grins and grabs the front of Freddie’s shirt and pulls him into the flat - and into a hot, insistent kiss.

Freddie lets himself melt against him, just a little. Tony is a great kisser, just the right sort of insistent as he licks across Freddie’s lips and Freddie parts them with a small, pleased sigh. Tony has his hands on Freddie’s hips, one thigh worming between Freddie’s legs… It feels like Freddie is entirely surrounded by him, like Tony wants every inch of him he can get, and how can Freddie ever say no to being desired like that?

“Mm, did you come here to surprise me then?” Tony asks when he finally pulls away and Freddie is breathing just a little bit heavier than he was before.

“That wasn’t my main intention, no,” Freddie has to admit. “Left my phone here, unfortunately.”

“Oh, well, it’s a good thing I was home then.” Tony kisses him again, quicker this time, and then lets him go and takes a step back. “You can still stay for a little while though, right? Have a drink or two before heading out…”

He starts walking in the direction of the kitchen as he talks, though it takes Freddie a moment to get his legs to work enough to head towards the bedroom himself. “I promised Roger I’d meet him back at home,” he calls out as he shakes out the blankets until he spots his phone, which he grabs and securely pockets. “We have a show tomorrow night and I really should rest up.”

“And you can’t rest up here with me?” Tony asks.

Freddie follows the sound of the question into the kitchen, where Tony has already poured a drink for each of them and he holds one out for Freddie. Freddie takes it, because it would be rude not to, and isn’t there something about the hair of a dog and drinking to help hangovers? With the way his stomach is still rolling he’s willing to try anything to calm it down, so he clinks his glass against Tony’s and takes a tentative sip.

It’s strong, far stronger than Freddie would make for himself, but he swallows down the burn and forces a smiles at Tony. “Sorry, darling, but you know if I stay here we won’t be getting much _rest_ at all.”

Tony laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not a bad thing,” Freddie says. “Just not ideal when Queen is performing tomorrow night.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Tony says with another laugh. Freddie’s stomach twists; no doubt the alcohol was a bad idea. “C’mon, let’s sit down for a bit. I’m assuming you don’t have to run out the door right this second, at least?”

“No, of course not,” Freddie says, and lets Tony lead him into the living room.

Tony plucks Freddie’s drink out of his hand and peels his jacket off his shoulders, stealing another demanding kiss as he does. He’s still kissing Freddie as he pushes him onto the couch, partially straddling him and pushing his shirt up to run a hand over Freddie’s bare stomach. Freddie squirms beneath him, torn between the arousal starting to simmer in his veins and his promise to Roger that he’d meet him back at home.

Eventually Freddie pulls away from Tony, enough to break the kiss and say, “I thought we were going to have a few drinks.”

“Mm, if that’s what you want,” Tony says, though he doesn’t move off of Freddie. Instead he ducks his head to kiss at Freddie’s jaw and neck, finally settling on a point on his throat to start sucking a hickey into Freddie’s skin.

“Tony, no, stop, I told you not to leave marks,” Freddie says as he tries to push Tony away.

Tony responds by biting down, _hard_ , in the exact same spot. Freddie yelps and scrambles back, and Tony finally moves away if only to avoid getting kicked.

“Ow, you _fucker_!” Freddie snaps as he gently prods at what is no doubt going to be a spectacular bruise on his throat. “It’s going to take me ages to cover this up for the show tomorrow!”

Tony rolls his eyes as he settles down on the couch next to Freddie. “Or you could just not bother. Why does it matter if the world knows you’re getting shagged?”

“It matters because things like that can ruin Queen’s image!” Freddie says crossly. “We have a recording deal but Trident still needs to find a label willing to release our album, and no one’s going to want to take on a band where the lead singer is covered in hickeys like some hormonal teenager!”

“Oh come off it, Freddie, don’t you think you’re taking this band thing a little bit too seriously?” Tony says. “No one really goes for that vintage rock crap these days, so the odds of you lot actually getting that album released are-”

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence if you ever want to sleep with me again,” Freddie cuts in. “You don’t know a single thing about our music, especially since you refuse to ever come to one of our shows!”

“Freddie, babe, you know I’d love to make it to one of your shows, but I’m always busy on weekends,” Tony says in a tone that’s no doubt supposed to be placating but hits a little closer to condescending instead.

Freddie huffs in frustration and grabs his drink, taking another large gulp because maybe the alcohol will help calm down the seething anger boiling up inside of him. Tony’s excuse for never making it to a Queen show is always just that he’s “busy” but Freddie knows that the only thing he’s busy doing is drinking and partying it up. Part of him wants to call Tony out on it, just to see what he says, but Freddie really doesn’t know that he has it in him to properly fight with Tony tonight, especially not when his hangover is starting to fade into the unpleasant sort of buzz that comes with drinking this much strong liquor on an empty stomach.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Tony says, putting his hand on Freddie’s knee and slowly sliding it up his thigh. “I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean to upset you… Let me make it up to you?”

Tony’s idea of an apology is usually sex, and this time is no exception. His hand, which had been creeping ever northward, settles over Freddie’s groin and he cups Freddie’s cock through his trousers. “Mm, you gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” he purrs in Freddie’s ear as he massages Freddie’s cock with just the right amount of pressure, until Freddie feels himself starting to grow hard despite his still-simmering annoyance.

Freddie turns towards Tony and pulls him into a kiss. “Well, get on with it then,” he breathes against Tony’s lips, and Tony chuckles as he pushes Freddie back down onto the couch, so he’s almost in the exact same position as before.

Tony is fun, but a little bit predictable. He’s not a fan of giving blowjobs, not even to reciprocate after Freddie gave him one first, so it’s no surprise when he unbuttons Freddie’s trousers to pull out his cock, licks a stripe up his palm, and starts stroking him in earnest. Still, Freddie isn’t going to complain about a handjob today; he’s certainly in no shape to reciprocate a blowjob, not without risking vomiting during the task, and Tony _is_ good at this. He takes his time, keeping his strokes light and teasing while swallowing down Freddie’s moans and whimpers in a fierce, hot kiss. It’s not until Freddie is rocking up into his touch, until he’s panting _Please, god, please darling_ , against Tony’s mouth, that he finally speeds up his movements, and with one final swipe over the head of Freddie’s cock he’s coming, hard, into Tony’s hand.

With one last, quick kiss Tony stands up and leaves Freddie alone on the couch, panting through the afterglow of his orgasm. It’s a few minutes before Tony returns, with clean hands a box of tissues which he sets down on the coffee table as he climbs back onto the couch to clean Freddie off and tuck his cock back away. Tony’s own cock is a hard, insistent presence as he rocks it against Freddie’s thigh and when he asks, “My turn, now?” it’s slightly too demanding to really pass as a playful question.

Fair is fair, though, and so Freddie gets to work.

If he’s slightly less enthusiastic than Tony had been, well, his handjob doesn’t also have to serve as an apology so he thinks it’s allowed. It’s still enough to get Tony off as well and he spills over Freddie’s hand with a low groan after only a few minutes. Freddie reaches behind him to grab a handful of tissues to clean them both off, but as he’s doing up Tony’s trousers he catches sight of a dark bruise on his hip that gives him pause.

“What’s that from, lovie?” he asks, tracing over it with one fingertip. It looks like a hickey, but that doesn’t make any sense...

Tony bats his hand away and finishes buttoning up his trousers himself. “Don’t you remember? You did that to me the other night.”

Freddie frowns because, no, he doesn’t remember that. And in fact, Freddie isn’t a particular fan of marking up his partners like that, if only because he doesn’t like being marked up himself. Scratches from the heat of passion or bruises from rougher play is one thing, but Freddie isn’t one for sucking hickeys into his partner’s skin… or at least he isn’t when he’s sober.

God knows that most of their sex is of the drunken variety, though, so who can say what they’ve been getting up to in bed lately.

“Oh, well, it must’ve just slipped my mind,” Freddie says with a bit of a forced laugh.

He stands up, drains the rest of his drink, and uses the excuse of running his glass to the kitchen to wash his hands quickly. When Freddie returns to the living room Tony is in the same place on the couch. He looks beautiful, sprawled out and with his eyes closed as he relaxes into the cushions andFreddie pauses to take in the sight of him. Despite their differences, despite the fighting, in moments like this Freddie is so overwhelmed by Tony that he can almost forget how much he still loves Brian.

It isn’t until Freddie pulls his jacket back on that Tony cracks open an eye, and frowns up at him. “You’re not seriously leaving, are you?”

“I told you I couldn’t stay,” Freddie reminds him. He leans down to kiss Tony goodbye, but Tony turns his head away to avoid him. “Oh, seriously dear?”

“I think I’m allowed to be a little upset when you run out the door almost as soon as you come,” Tony snaps. “Fucking and running away isn’t a good look for you, Fred.”

“I’m hardly running away when I told you, from the moment I got here, that I couldn’t stay long!” Freddie snaps back. “Did you think I’d change my mind after one mediocre handjob?”

“Mediocre?” Tony laughs, vicious and humorless. “I had you begging me for more, _darling_ , don’t try to lie and say you didn’t enjoy it now.”

“You’re such an arsehole sometimes, you know that?” Freddie says as he double-checks his pockets for his phone, wallet, and keys. He certainly doesn’t want to be coming back here for a second time tonight.

“Better than being a cocktease like you!” Tony shouts after him as Freddie storms out of his flat and slams the door shut behind him.

It’s a stupid argument to be having, Freddie knows that. Of course it’s understandable that his boyfriend would be upset that they can’t spend the rest of the day together… it’s just frustrating when Freddie is upfront about his own plans and Tony still gets in a snit when Freddie can’t change them at the last minute. At least Tony doesn’t hold onto a grudge; he texts an apology before Freddie even makes it home, though it rings a little hollow when he offers to take Freddie out on a date tomorrow night when they had _just_ been arguing about Queen’s planned show.

_**Freddie:** I can’t. Queen show remember?_

**_Tony:_** _afterwards then?  
_ _u can meet us at vice when ur done_

Freddie swallows down another burst of hurt and anger. So much for a private date then, if Tony is already talking about “us”, and so much for Tony showing up for this gig either. Still, he’s trying and Freddie knows that Tony does care, in his own way, and doesn’t that count for something here?

_**Freddie:** ok. see u then ♥_

Despite Freddie’s best efforts he’s still in a bit of a sour mood by the time he actually arrives back home. He storms into the flat, startling Roger who had been sitting cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop in front of him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry I’m late, dear, but I got my phone and everything’s all set now,” Freddie says as he sheds his jacket and shoes by the door. “When’s dinner getting here?”

“Should be here any minute- Fucking hell, Fred, your neck!” Roger says as he shoves his laptop aside and scrambles to his feet.

Freddie hurriedly covers the mark with one hand. “It’s just a hickey, Rog, honestly haven’t you seen one before?”

Roger narrows his eyes for a moment, as if he’s trying to gauge the best response to that, and Freddie can’t stand to wait around and hear whatever it’s going to be. He doesn’t want to hear Roger’s concern over one little overenthusiastic love bite, but he also doesn’t want to hear whatever friendly teasing he could try to force out instead.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Freddie says quickly, pushing past Roger and ignoring the, “Hey, Freddie, wait-!” that he calls after him.

It’s only once he’s safely locked in the bathroom with the shower starting to heat up that he pulls his hand away from his neck to properly study the bruise in the mirror. It is nasty looking, already darkening to a deep purple, and the bite marks around the edges of it are unmistakable. He pokes at it gently and hisses at it throbs painfully under his touch. No amount of quick-fixes are going to be able to get rid of this before the show tomorrow night.

“Fucking Tony,” he grumbles under his breath as he strips out of his clothes.

When he shimmies out of his trousers he pauses to run his fingers over the dark marks covering his lower half - the marks of rough sex and Tony’s bruising grip on his hips and the hickeys that Freddie let him leave in places where others wouldn’t be able to see when they were both drunk and Freddie forgot how much he hates the look of them marring his skin. They look exactly the same as the mark on Tony’s own hip, the one that Freddie doesn’t remember leaving… but there are so many bruises on Freddie’s own body that he doesn’t remember getting, he supposes it isn’t impossible that he finally left one of his own on Tony as well and simply forgot about it once he was sober again.

Still, as Freddie climbs into the shower, he can’t shake quite shake his worry that that mark on Tony’s hip didn’t come from him at all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, just a quick note that I've finished writing the rest of the story, so you can expect updates roughly every other day with the final chapter being posted next Wednesday! We're in the homestretch now and I hope you enjoy these last few chapters!

Brian’s flat is uncomfortably quiet. Even with the rainstorm outside and some comedian he doesn’t know cracking jokes on whatever unknown panel show is playing on his telly, there’s a stillness and silence that he can’t banish no matter what he does. It lingers in the corners, near the box of painting supplies that he can’t quite manage to forget about and around his turntable with the records he can’t play without stirring up memories that make his chest ache. 

Brian misses Freddie. He misses him so much that it feels like he can’t breathe sometimes, like he’ll drown under the weight of his loneliness. He never quite realized, until Freddie stopped coming over, how lonely it could be to live by himself. And the moments where he sees Freddie at the studio or during shows just hurt even more. Every friendly interaction with him during band commitments is just a reminder of how much distance has grown between them since Freddie started seeing Tony and stopped seeing quite so much of Brian. 

If Brian just _knew_ that Freddie was happy, really happy, in his relationship with Tony, maybe he would have an easier time accepting this new distance between them. But Freddie doesn’t talk about Tony hardly ever, and the more that Freddie withdraws the less that Brian can read him and the less he’s sure that he knows anything that may be going on in Freddie’s mind. 

The storm picks up with a rumble of thunder that hardly registers to Brian. It feels impossible to focus on anything except his dark and melancholy thoughts these days. Progress on his thesis has ground to a halt and all his ideas for new songs have flown from his head, replaced instead with clawing static that he doesn’t quite have the energy to force away. What would be the point, anyway? His thesis is doomed, Queen can’t even finish recording their first album, Freddie’s smiles are getting more forced by the day… Sometimes, Brian wonders why he’s still trying to move forward at all. 

At first, he doesn’t hear the knocking. It’s soft, hesitant, easily lost beneath the thunder and the telly. Even when the noise finally registers Brian can’t quite make sense of it at first. There aren’t many people who would stop by this late at night and in the middle of a storm, and a quick glance at his phone confirms that none of them have sent him a text to give him a head’s up about whatever emergency would have brought them here. Still, when another knock comes he knows that he can’t ignore it forever - no matter how much he may want to - so he sighs but drags himself up off the couch and shuffles over to the door. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greets him when he wrenches it open. It’s Freddie standing there, in tight leather trousers and a flimsy tank top, soaking wet from the rain and looking about as miserable as Brian thinks he’s ever seen him. All Brian can do is stare at him, his mouth open in a small “o” of surprise as his mind scrambles to figure out why Freddie would show up here, unannounced, after all this time. 

Freddie flashes him the smallest ghost of a smile. “Hi, Brian,” he says softly. “Sorry for not texting ahead again. Can I- can I come in?”

Brian stands aside, because how could he not? Even with the dozens of of questions circling around his thoughts, even with the hurt and heartache and anger still clawing at his chest, how could he ever leave Freddie standing outside in the rain and the cold?

Freddie doesn’t move far into the flat. He stands a few feet from the door, dripping water onto the floor and looking more like a lost child than the person who had dug their way into Brian’s heart and made a home there. Freddie is too quiet, too unsure, and Brian can’t blame him. He feels off-kilter as well, scared to say the wrong thing and drive Freddie away but terrified of saying too much and pouring his heart out now that finally, _finally_ Freddie is back here with him. 

He clears his throat and Freddie starts a little at the noise, glancing at him sharply with red-rimmed eyes. He looks like he’s been crying, and Brian wonders how much of the water on his face is actually from the rain at all. 

“Do you- I mean, you should- You’re wet,” Brian fumbles. God, why is he like this? Why does everything have to feel so awkward between them? 

“Yeah,” Freddie says. He glances down at the puddle forming on the floor beneath him and grimaces. “Do you have a towel?”

“Bathroom,” Brian says. “You can shower, if you want. Might warm you up a bit? And clothes, I can- I’ll find you something dry to wear.”

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie says, and Brian’s stomach twists up at hearing Freddie call him _darling_ again. The endearment got dropped sometime after he started dating Tony, and Brian has missed it fiercely. 

Freddie shuffles off to the bathroom and Brian heads into his bedroom where he grabs a pair of joggers and an old jumper. He hears the shower turn on as he leaves the bedroom, so he knocks and calls out, “The clothes are just outside the door here,” and sets everything down in a neat pile on the floor. He makes a quick retreat to the kitchen and busies himself with making a cup of tea, keeping his back firmly to the bathroom door and his thoughts away from images of Freddie in the shower or getting changed into Brian’s own clothes. 

He doesn’t know how long Freddie stays in the bathroom. It’s long enough for Brian to make two cups of tea, second-guess his memory of how Freddie takes his and remake it entirely, and to start warming up some soup as well. He’s just taking the bowl out of the microwave when he hears the bathroom door open, and his hands start shaking so badly that it’s a miracle he doesn’t spill the soup all over himself.

Brian sets the bowl down on the counter before turning and looking back at Freddie, who’s standing just outside the bathroom door. The joggers are too large on him and the bottom hems are pooled around his feet, but the jumper seems to fit him almost perfectly. That doesn’t stop Freddie from playing nervously with the cuffs as his eyes flit around the kitchen, looking anywhere but at Brian directly. Brian can’t even appreciate the sight of Freddie in his clothes, not when Freddie still looks so nervous and his own worry is still climbing.

“I, uh, I made you some soup, if you want it,” Brian says to break the silence. 

“Thank you, but I’m not- I’m not hungry,” Freddie says.

“Tea, then?” Brian asks as he picks up the two cups. “And do you want- We can sit down, if you like?”

Freddie thinks about that for a moment, and then finally nods. Brian holds his breath as he passes Freddie his cup of tea; for a moment, their fingers are so close to touching that Brian swears he could feel sparks between them. But the moment passes with another forced smile from Freddie and a “Thank you” that’s far too quiet, and the two of them move to the living room to take their usual seats on the couch. 

Brian doesn’t quite know what to do from there. Freddie doesn’t say anything at first and the longer he stays silent the more anxious Brian becomes. Something must have happened to bring Freddie here tonight, and with Freddie’s withdrawn demeanor he knows that it can’t be anything good. Even his momentary anger at having Freddie waltz so casually back into his life is long gone, replaced with a deep fear over how _wrong_ this entire situation is.

“You alright, Fred?” he finally asks after a few minutes of tense silence. Freddie just shrugs and Brian bites back a frustrated sigh before he can accidentally let it slip. “It’s just… Well, it’s been a while since you’ve come over here…”

“I know. And I’m so sorry for that,” Freddie says, sounding so miserable that it hurts to hear. “I’m sorry that I showed up so late and without letting you know first. I’m sorry that I disappeared on you the moment I got a boyfriend and honestly I’m sorry that I ever started seeing Tony in the first place.”

“Freddie, did… did something happen?” Brian asks, a little cautiously, but he doesn’t know how to avoid the question any longer. There’s still a fading, yellowed bruise in the hollow of Freddie’s throat and the possibility that that may have been an early warning sign that Brian couldn’t see through his jealousy makes him feel sick now. 

Freddie nods and Brian’s stomach lurches as he immediately fears the worst - but when Freddie finally speaks he says, “Tony, he- he cheated on me.”

Brian’s first reaction is one of relief, and he just barely manages to bite back the _Thank god_ that wants to slip out. “I’m so sorry,” he says instead. “Are you… sure?” That’s not exactly what he means to ask but _How did you find out?_ seems too blunt and _Are you alright?_ seems pointless when it’s so clear that Freddie is nothing of the sort. 

“I caught him getting a handy from someone behind the club tonight so yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Freddie says. There’s no heat in his voice but the dull tiredness is somehow even worse to hear. “Of course, I probably should’ve figured it out before. Vince fucking told me that he’d seen Tony kissing someone else and he was covered in hickies I didn’t remember leaving, but I still told myself that none of it was real. That I was too drunk, or Vince was just seeing things…” Freddie shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Brian. You don’t want to hear any of this.”

“I don’t mind.” Freddie scoffs and Brian repeats, a little more firmly, “I promise, I don’t. You’ve had a fucking awful evening, from the sound of things, so the least I can do is listen for a bit.”

Freddie sniffs a little, and takes a sip of his tea. It’s a long minute before he says, “Thank you. Honestly though, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had slammed the door in my face tonight when you saw me standing out there."

"I would never!"

"Well, Joe and Phoebe probably will and I can't fault them for that, considering how I've been ignoring them lately," Freddie says, staring down at his cup rather than look directly at Brian as he talks. "And Roger will only tell me "I told you so" when he hears that Tony's cheated on me…"

"I'm sure their reactions won't be that bad," Brian tries to assure him. He knows that Roger has just been worried about Freddie, and he can’t imagine any of Freddie’s other friends being truly furious with him either. 

Freddie shakes his head. "I'm going to have to grovel for their forgiveness, and I deserve that. I've been absolutely rotten to _everyone_ lately, ignoring messages and blowing off plans in favor of spending more time with Tony… And I’m so sorry, Brian, for doing the same thing to you. I’m sorry for not coming over here recently and I’m sorry for probably ruining our entire friendship and-”

“You haven’t ruined everything, Freddie,” Brian cuts in. God help him, but even with this new distance still lingering between them he loves Freddie too much to ever let their friendship be ruined. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Freddie says, finally looking up at Brian with just the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Though, for what it’s worth, I wish that every single one of those nights out with Tony I had spent here with you instead.”

Brian thinks about that for a moment, weighing Freddie’s sincerity against the insecurities that have been plaguing him for weeks now, and finally he asks, “Then why didn’t you?”

If it was because of something that Brian did, maybe something that he said during that argument that Freddie still hasn’t forgiven him for, then Brian wants to know now. Maybe it’s a risk to ask the question - Brian’s heart is certainly starting to race with the fear that Freddie will storm out rather than answer - but he _has_ to ask. He needs to be able to apologize and clear the air so they can move forward, together, without any lingering resentments waiting to bubble up and drive a wedge between them again.

“I thought I loved him,” Freddie says, and the pain of those words is only softened by Freddie’s continued explanation. “Or I thought I could love him, if I gave it a good enough go. He was sweet and fun, at times at least, and I told myself that he could be the one because I needed to believe he could be.”

“I didn’t think that’s how you wanted to approach relationships anymore,” Brian says. Freddie had said as much, ages ago now, but Brian doesn’t know if that’s still true. If that was _ever_ really true. He still doesn’t understand why Freddie’s behavior changed so drastically so suddenly and the more Freddie tries to explain it the more worried Brian becomes. 

“It’s not.”

“Then why-?”

“Because I fell in love - properly, madly in love with someone, and he doesn’t love me back,” Freddie says and he sounds heartbroken. And Brian can’t stand that. Even though his whole chest aches with misery at the reminder that Freddie doesn’t love _him_ , has never loved _him_ , Brian’s only thought is how to make Freddie stop sounding like _that_. 

“Who couldn’t love you back?” Brian asks and it’s too honest, too _much_ , but if Freddie realizes that he doesn’t react to it. 

“Someone who’s a far better person than I could ever hope to be. By the time I worked up the courage to say something to him, he already had his eye on someone else,” Freddie says. 

Brian opens his mouth to ask Freddie if ever _actually_ told this mystery man how he felt, but Freddie keeps talking before he can say anything.

“I guess I started spending so much time with Tony because I needed the distraction,” Freddie continues. He’s staring slightly off into space, not quite paying attention to Brian any more even though he doesn’t stop talking. “I needed to forget about how I felt about him, but I couldn’t. He was always on my mind, and every second I was with Tony I was really just missing _him_.”

Brian’s mind is spinning as he tries to make sense of what Freddie is saying. He can almost understand Freddie’s logic here; a new relationship would certainly take his mind off of being rejected, but why didn’t he say anything about this to Brian? Why did he go fleeing into the arms of a stranger, go out drinking and dancing and throw everything else aside, instead of just talking to any of them about what he was going through? Why wasn’t their friendship enough to get him through his heartache?

Why wasn’t _Brian_ enough?

Freddie takes a deep breath and looks back up at Brian. “Anyway, that’s all in the past now, I suppose,” he says with a smile - and Brian freezes, the pit of his stomach dropping as he sees that _something_ in Freddie’s smile that’s been missing ever since he started dating Tony. 

It’s a _something_ that Brian could never put his finger on before, something unique to Freddie, something that he only shared with Brian… Only now, Brian thinks he knows what it is. He thinks he can recognize the yearning in Freddie’s eyes, the heartache of an unrequited love, the sting of rejection that never fully manages to fade away. There’s no mistaking it, because it’s a perfect echo of what Brian feels every time he so much as thinks about Freddie.

And Brian wonders, for the first time since that night at Vice Versa, if maybe Freddie might feel something for him after all. 

“Who was it?” he asks, so quietly that he can barely hear his own voice over his pounding heart. 

Freddie’s smile falters a little. “Who was what?” he says and though his tone is even his eyes become a little more guarded. He knows what Brian is really asking and it’s clear that he’s not going to answer the question willingly. 

“The man you fell in love with.”

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter now,” Freddie says with a dismissive wave of one hand. “And anyway, I think I’ve bored you enough with my problems for one night so-”

“Who was it, Freddie?” Brian asks again. “I want to know.”

“Why? Why on earth does it matter?” Freddie laughs and it sounds so forced that even Freddie can’t help but wrinkle his nose a little at his own obvious insincerity. 

“I think you know why it matters,” Brian says. “Freddie, please. Are you… Did you… Is it _me_?”

Freddie makes a frustrated noise and sets his cup of tea on the arm of the sofa as he stands up. His hands are tugging at his hair and he’s pacing anxiously in front of Brian as he says, “I’m sorry, Brimi. I’m so, _so_ sorry. I know I’m an idiot and I’ve made a mess of everything but _please_ forgive me. I promise this doesn’t have to change things between us or make things awkward or- or-”

He sounds genuinely distressed now and Brian quickly sets down his own tea so he can stand up and gently grab Freddie’s arms to hold him in place. Freddie looks at him with wide, anguished eyes, like he’s bracing himself for Brian to push him away now that his secret has been revealed. 

“You idiot,” Brian says fondly, with a giddy laugh bubbling up at the end of his words. “Oh, god, we’re _both_ such idiots.”

“Brian, what-?” Freddie starts to ask, but before he can finish the question Brian is leaning down and kissing him. 

It’s not exactly the picture-perfect kiss of Brian’s dreams. The angle is awkward and the kiss lands slightly off-center, and even though Freddie’s mouth drops open a little in surprise Brian doesn’t press his advantage and tries to keep things chaste. Freddie is unmoving beneath him, not kissing him back but not fighting to get away either, and Brian remembers belatedly that he’s still holding onto Freddie’s arms. He quickly lets go of him, breaking the kiss and taking a step back, and already preparing a thousand apologies for pinning Freddie in place and forcing himself on him. 

Freddie’s eyes had slipped shut but they flutter open now and he gives Brian a look filled with so much open _want_ that it makes Brian’s knees weak. God, how had they both gotten so turned around when now this all seems so obvious? 

“Why did you stop?” Freddie asks softly. He licks his lips and Brian eyes dart down to his mouth to watch the movement. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to continue,” Brian admits. “You weren’t kissing me back.”

“Wasn’t I?” Freddie shakes his head and laughs a little. “Well, let’s fix that, then.”

He gently grabs the front of Brian’s shirt and pulls him back in closer, and this time they meet halfway in a kiss that Brian thinks is almost as perfect as it can get. Freddie’s mouth is soft under his and he sighs and melts into the kiss as Brian lets his hands settle on Freddie’s waist. Brian feels like he’s burning up inside, and every movement of Freddie’s lips against his just makes him want _more_ until his head is swimming with a giddy sort of delirium. 

Freddie swipes his tongue along the seam of Brian’s lips and Brian just barely manages to swallow down a whimper. He pulls back from the kiss before he can do something stupid, like push Freddie down onto the couch and shove his hand down his trousers. Freddie sighs a little in disappointment, but he gives Brian a warm smile and they’re both still holding onto each other, neither one willing to let go now.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” Brian asks. How long has he been missing out on _this_?

“Ages, darling. Simply _ages_ ,” Freddie tells him. “I didn’t think it meant anything serious at first, but then that night at Vice… When we were dancing, I thought you were going to kiss me…”

“I almost did,” Brian admits. “But we were drinking, and I got scared that everything that was happening was just because of the alcohol. And then you apologized the next day for going too far-”

“Because you ran away! I thought you were repulsed by me!”

“I was _never_ repulsed by you,” Brian says. “God, Freddie, you had me so turned around I didn’t know what I felt for you! That’s the only reason why I went on that stupid date. I thought maybe seeing someone else would help me sort out how I felt about you, but the entire time I was only thinking about you.” He swallows thickly and asks, “Were you really going to ask me out that day?”

“That had been the plan, yes,” Freddie says. “You always said you weren’t looking for a relationship, but Roger and John were so sure that you were interested in me that I decided I had to take the risk. But then you went on that date and I thought…” Freddie shrugs and glances away from Brian. 

Enough pieces have fallen into place that Brian thinks he knows what Freddie is hinting at. “You thought that I just didn’t want to have a relationship with _you_ ,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry for making you think that when that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Freddie laughs softly and ducks his head, resting it against Brian’s collarbone. “God, we really are idiots, aren’t we?” he says, his voice slightly muffled against Brian’s shirt.

“Maybe just a little,” Brian agrees. He remembers what John said, back at the beginning of this whole mess - that when he finds someone to love, he needs to tell them how he feels. It’s so obvious, in hindsight, that he meant that Brian should talk to Freddie and Brian wishes he had done that before… but at the very least, he’s not going to put it off any longer. 

“Freddie, I- I love you,” he says and it’s a little terrifying to say those words aloud - at least until Freddie looks back up at him, with an expression of such joy on his face that it gives Brian the courage to continue talking. “I don’t care if this is too sudden, I should’ve told you this ages ago instead of trying to hide it from you. I love you. And I don’t want you to ever leave again.”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Freddie promises, and he pulls Brian back down into another kiss. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a discussion of STD statuses and safe sex, with eventual sexual content at the end. 
> 
> Since I know some readers get fussy about it, I’ll let you know upfront that there is no penetration and no kink so therefore there are no top/bottom or dom/sub dynamics at play here. However it should be obvious if you’ve read the story up to now that Freddie is the more experienced partner when it comes to m/m relationships and that will factor somewhat into this chapter.

Freddie doesn’t think he can ever get tired of kissing Brian. He’s wanted this for so long that even now, with Brian’s lips against his and his arms draped loosely around Brian’s neck, he almost can’t believe that this is really happening. What had started out as one of the most miserable nights of Freddie’s life has turned into something out of a fairytale, and Freddie is half afraid that if he lets go of Brian now he’ll wake up alone in Tony’s bed to find that this really was just a dream.

This hadn’t been what Freddie was expecting to happen when he showed up outside Brian’s flat. He expected to have to grovel and beg for forgiveness after how he’s been acting lately, but instead Brian had welcomed him in with the same warmth and kindness that he’s always shown to Freddie. Brian forgave him, and listened to his problems, and put together the missing pieces of Freddie’s stories to figure out the truth.

There’s more conversations that need to be had, more apologies to be shared and more things that they’ll need to discuss, but right now Freddie isn’t thinking about any of that. His heart is singing with joy and relief and _love_ , and all he can think about is how he never wants this moment to end.

He is, however, getting a little bit tired of standing, so he starts gently pushing Brian back towards the couch. Brian breaks the kiss with a small laugh and says, “You could have just said you wanted to sit down, you know,” he says as he takes a seat again - and then his eyes widen as Freddie goes to straddle his lap. “Fred, wait-”

Freddie realizes the moment he sits down that Brian is half-hard underneath him, and Freddie must look a little surprised because Brian immediately tries to squirm away. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Brian, my love, this is hardly something you need to apologize for,” Freddie says with a light laugh. He rocks down against Brian a little, relishing the tiny gasp that Brian doesn’t stifle fast enough. “In fact, if you wanted to do something about this, I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

Brian’s face is bright red and he’s as still as a statue beneath Freddie. “I- I mean, I-” he stammers.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Freddie says quickly. He’s always been worried about making a move on Brian and scaring him off; the last thing he wants is for that to happen _now_.

Brian’s hands settle low on Freddie’s hips to hold him in place. “I want to,” he says, and his voice is firm even if his face is no less flushed. “But I also want to take you on dates and spend evenings together like we used to. I don’t want to go too fast or make you think I _only_ want this or-”

“I never thought that’s what you wanted here,” Freddie assures him. He’s actually delighted that Brian wants to properly date him - that’s not a response that he’s used to getting from people. “And I would _love_ to have sex with you, just for the record, but that doesn’t have to happen tonight if you aren’t in the mood.”

Brian bites his bottom lip and Freddie has to resist the urge to nip at it himself, or rub down against Brian’s bulge, or whisper filthy promises in his ear until Brian caves and has his wicked way with him. Freddie doesn’t want to sway his decision or make him feel guilty if he demures, so he stays still and quiet and waits for Brian to think it over in his own time.

“I want to,” Brian says again. “But I’m… nervous, I guess.”

“You don’t need to be,” Freddie assures him. “We can take it slow, and-”

“That’s not why I’m nervous,” Brian interrupts with a small laugh. “I’m nervous because it’s _you_ and I already care about you, and I don’t want to mess this up or disappoint you or anything.”

“Impossible, darling. There’s nothing you can do to mess this up now,” Freddie promises him. He knows that Brian is self-conscious about his lack of experience with other men and he’s not expecting perfection from him. He leans in and gives Brian a chaste, but lingering kiss, and asks, “Now, shall we move this into the bedroom? Since I’m assuming you don’t have any condoms hidden in the couch cushions…”

Brian freezes underneath Freddie again and Freddie pulls back, giving him a worried look. “Brian? Something wrong?”

Brian coughs awkwardly and looks away from Freddie. “Ah. Well, it’s just that I don’t- I don’t have any condoms.”

“You don’t have any condoms,” Freddie echoes. Brian nods guiltily and Freddie sighs, and finally climbs off of Brian. This isn’t a conversation that should be had while Freddie is draped all over him. “Why don’t you have any, darling?”

“Haven’t needed them since Chrissie and I broke up, and we always- Well, we had more privacy at her place than the flat I shared with Tim, so they stayed with her,” Brian explains. “But we can run out and get some-”

As if on cue, a distant rumble of thunder shakes the flat, the last echo of the storm that’s been raging for most of the evening. It’s late, and Freddie already got soaked once when he walked from the club to Brian’s place. He’s not so desperate for sex that he’s willing to make the late-night trek to the shop through the rain just to get _condoms_. “Honestly, I think we’re better off waiting until morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian apologizes.

Freddie shrugs. “It’s just rotten luck that I don’t have any on hand myself, and it’s not like you could have known this is where the night would take us.”

“Especially considering I wasn’t expecting there to be an _us_ tonight at all,” Brian mumbles, and Freddie laughs a little at that. “I suppose it’d be bad for me to ask if you’re sure that we _really_ need them…”

Brian’s tone is mostly joking, but even so it’s a question that makes Freddie’s skin crawl to hear. He’s had too many past partners ask the same thing condescendingly, cajolingly, _angrily_ , that he loathes hearing it from Brian now no matter how little he means it.

“Brian, dear, I know you’re teasing but this is something I take seriously,” Freddie tells him. “Especially since my last partner was cheating on me for god knows how long. I need to get tested again, thanks to him.”

It’s not a sexy conversation to be having but it’s important to Freddie. Tony had assured him that he was clean and Freddie had eventually been willing to forgo condoms with him, a decision that he’s deeply regretting now that he knows that Tony wasn’t faithful. Freddie’s going to be pissed if he caught anything from his now ex-boyfriend, but he’d be even more furious if Brian caught anything off of him.

“You’re right,” Brian says. He sighs, but offers up a crooked smile to Freddie. “It wouldn’t hurt for me to get tested as well, since the last time was before I started dating Chrissie. We’ll just wait until morning, like you said.”

Technically, Freddie had only meant that they should wait to get condoms until the morning - not that they needed to wait to have any sex at all. “Well, there’s still a _few_ options for things we can do…” he says slowly as he mulls over their options.

“Freddie, I’m fine waiting until we can be safe about this-”

“And as I was saying, darling, there are still things we can do without having to worry about passing something along,” Freddie interrupts gently. He sets one hand on Brian’s thigh, just high enough to make his own desires clear without actually groping Brian outright. “Are you still alright with this?”

“Of course I am,” Brian says softly, turning back towards Freddie but not quite kissing him, not yet. He does reach out for Freddie, though, gently touching his waist and pulling him close until Freddie gets the hint and climbs back into his lap.

“Mm, I’m glad to hear that,” Freddie purrs. He drapes himself back over Brian, his arms looped loosely around his neck, his knees falling on either side of Brian’s thighs, and he grinds down slightly onto Brian. Neither of them are fully hard anymore, but that’s alright. Freddie has no problem taking his time with this.

He teases a kiss, brushing his lips over Brian’s but not quite pressing them together. Instead he rolls his hips down, groaning quietly as his clothed cock rubs against Brian’s. Even through both of their trousers the friction feels divine, and it takes a real focus to keep his movements slow and deliberate instead of simply tearing at Brian’s clothes and getting on with things.

Brian is slightly less patient and he pushes at the hem of Freddie’s borrowed jumper. Freddie gasps as Brian’s hands wander over his waist and sides; they feel scorching hot against Freddie’s bare skin. He grinds down a little harder, relishing the moan that Brian lets slip. It’s so much better than the stolen touches at Vice Versa, so much better than any of Freddie’s fantasies… This is Brian, real and eager and growing hard beneath Freddie’s touch.

“Wanna see you,” Brian murmurs against Freddie’s lips.

“Have patience, lovie,” Freddie responds, though he slides his hands underneath the sleeves of Brian’s t-shirt as he says it, desperate to see every part of Brian himself.

“I’ve _been_ patient. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” Brian says. There’s a hint of a growl to his words that makes Freddie whimper low in his throat, and Brian responds by grinding his hips up hard against Freddie’s.

Freddie moves with Brian, rolling up to meet Brian and making them both groan at the contact. Freddie is hard and aching in his borrowed joggers and he’s teasing himself almost as much as Brian at this point but he can’t help it. After so many half-remembered drunken nights with Tony, Freddie is eager to take his time with Brian now.

“Didn’t you just say that you were fine waiting?” Freddie teases.

Brian growls and pulls Freddie down into a hot kiss. Freddie goes willingly and lets himself be pinned in place, with one of Brian’s hands tangled in Freddie’s hair and one on his bare hip under his jumper to hold him still as Brian rocks up against Freddie. Freddie moans into the kiss as Brian’s hard cock rubs against his, and he can feel some of his own patience starting to waver. Brian feels so good underneath him and against him that part of Freddie wants Brian to throw him down on this couch and ravage him, and the other part just wants to drop to his knees and blow Brian until he’s coming hard down his throat.

Unfortunately their options for ravaging are limited tonight, but Freddie finds that he doesn’t mind that so much. Even this, still fully clothed and just rutting against each other, feels better than any amount of too-rough impersonal sex ever could and Freddie is enjoying this dull pressure against his cock and Brian’s hands on his body.

Still, this time when Brian starts pushing at Freddie’s jumper again he helps Brian pull it off and he tosses it somewhere behind him. “Now your turn?” Freddie asks as he plucks at the front of Brian’s shirt.

Brian doesn’t answer and for a moment Freddie wonders if he’s gone suddenly shy on him, but then Freddie feels both of Brian’s hands settle on his hips and when he looks down Brian’s thumbs are stroking gently over some of the bruises left behind by an over-eager Tony. “Did he hurt you?” Brian asks, and his voice is soft but there’s an edge of steel behind his words that makes it clear what he thinks of seeing these marks on Freddie’s body.

“Not intentionally,” Freddie says.

Brian’s eyes flick back up to look at Freddie’s face. “That’s no excuse-”

“We were drunk and he got carried away while we were fucking, and I didn’t mind it in the moment,” Freddie tells him. “Tony may be a bastard but he wasn’t abusive.”

“Well I’m never going to hurt you like that, I promise,” Brian tells him firmly.

“Not even if I ask you to?” Freddie teases. He may not enjoy _only_ having rough sex, but that doesn’t mean that he hates it as an occasional thing.

Brian’s mouth drops open in surprise and Freddie thinks he’s caught him completely off-guard with that quip, but then Brian smirks a little and says, “That’s completely different, though, isn’t it?”

Freddie laughs lightly. “Mm, that it is,” he agrees as he rolls his hips back down against Brian’s and starts tugging his shirt up, letting his nails scratch lightly over Brian’s stomach as he does so. Brian groans and his grip on Freddie’s hips tightens just slightly. It’s not enough to leave a bruise, Freddie can already tell that, but it is enough that he knows that Brian isn’t thinking murderous thoughts towards Freddie’s ex anymore.

Brian laughs a little as Freddie pulls the t-shirt over his face and it gets stuck there for a moment, and he finally bats Freddie’s hands away and finishes pulling it off by himself. Once he’s freed from the fabric Freddie wastes no time in leaning back down to kiss him, nipping at Brian’s bottom lip and licking along the seam of his mouth until Brian opens up beneath him.

And while Freddie is taking his fill of Brian’s kisses, Brian uses his grip on Freddie’s hips to coax him into moving again. The two of them settle into a rhythm as they grind against each other and the kiss devolves into harsh panting and smothered moans as they each chase their peak. It’s a little ridiculous how close Freddie is already, just from some kissing and rubbing against Brian like they’re horny teenagers, and he knows he could come on Brian’s lap, just like this, but he has something else in mind.

“Wanna touch your cock, Bri,” he murmurs against Brian’s lips, between messy kisses and quiet panting as Brian keeps rubbing himself against him. Freddie reaches down between their bodies and cups his hand around Brian’s bulge, massaging his hard cock through his joggers, and Brian moans loudly, and buries his face in the crook of Freddie’s neck to try to muffle the sound.

“God, Freddie,” Brian pants as he grinds up against Freddie’s hand. “Freddie, please…”

_Oh_ , Freddie loves that sound, Brian desperately begging for more as Freddie slowly drives him crazy. Freddie can’t wait to spend hours seeing what it would take to make Brian break, and he can’t wait to see what Brian might be capable of if Freddie did ask him to get a little rough… It takes Freddie’s breath away to think about all the things they can experiment with and try out, and he’s dizzy with desire just thinking of all the things he wants to do with this gorgeous man beneath him.

For now, though, he settles with starting to push Brian’s joggers and pants down, something that’s easier said than done when he’s still sitting on Brian’s lap. He huffs in frustration - and Brian lets out a small laugh - and Freddie climbs off of Brian so they can do this properly.

“Come on, darling,” he says as he pulls behind up to his feet as well. “Let’s go to your bed.”

Freddie hasn’t actually been in Brian’s bedroom since they all spent the night after helping Brian move in. Brian had drunkenly clung to Freddie for most of the night, and Freddie had woken up in the morning to find that he'd ended up wrapping his own arms around Brian to hold him close while they slept. He'd been greeted with teasing questions and jokes from Roger and John when he stumbled out of Brian's bedroom, and Freddie had sworn that he wasn't ever going to share a bed with Brian again. He'd held to that promise too, always sleeping on the couch if it got too late for him to want to make the trip home… but now Brian's bed is beckoning to them, and Freddie pushes Brian to sit down on the edge while he quickly shimmies out of his pants and borrowed joggers, leaving him utterly naked before Brian for the first time.

"Freddie-" Brian chokes out, his eyes wide as he takes in Freddie's body.

Brian reaches out for him before Freddie has a chance to become too self-conscious and Freddie closes the small distance between them without hesitation. Brian kisses him again, absolutely devouring Freddie's mouth, as one hand pets over Freddie's chest and the other slides down his back to stop just before it touches Freddie's bottom.

Freddie laughs into the kiss and murmurs against Brian's lips, "It's okay, you can touch me, you know."

So Brian does, though he keeps his touch light, almost caressing, as he slides it along the curve of Freddie’s arse and around the crease of his thigh. “God, you’re beautiful,” Brian says, and there’s a reverence in his tone that Freddie shivers to hear.

“And you’re a- _ah_ -” Freddie cuts off with a sharp gasp as Brian trails his fingers up the length of his cock, teasing over the head for a moment before Brian wraps his hand around Freddie’s dick and gives it a slow, stroke back down to the base. Freddie clings to Brian’s shoulders and rocks his hips to try to encourage Brian to keep stroking him, but Brian lets go of his cock and settles his hand back on Freddie’s hip instead.

“You fucking _tease_!” he groans, and Brian laughs at him and kisses the center of his chest. “That’s it, come on. I want to see you too.”

Brian flushes a little pink around the edges and he hesitates for a second before shimmying out of his pants and, with a few nudges from Freddie, he moves further up onto the bed. And then it’s Freddie turn to take his fill of Brian, from the faint blush spreading down his chest to his perfect cock lying heavy and hard against his stomach. Freddie wants to grind his cock against Brian’s, or else get his mouth on Brian and swallow him down - but neither option is possible at the moment.

“Freddie?”

Freddie moves onto the bed, though he kneels by Brian’s side rather than climbing on top of him. He leans down to kiss Brian briefly, and then says, “You’re unfairly gorgeous, my dear, and I’m a little mad that I can’t suck on that pretty cock of yours.”

Brian groans and palms at Freddie’s arse, and Freddie can’t resist grinding his cock against Brian’s side. “We’ll just have to save that for next time,” Brian says.

Freddie’s heart does a little flip at those words: _Next time_. Because this isn’t going to be the only chance they have to do this, so Freddie doesn’t have to worry about doing everything at once. “Next time then,” Freddie agrees with a grin.

Brian laughs a little and tells him, “So get down here, then, so I can touch you properly.”

And Freddie, helpless to deny Brian anything, goes.

They end up lying next to each other and Freddie leans in to capture Brian’s mouth at the same time that he wraps a hand around Brian’s cock. Brian moans into the kiss and bucks his hips into Freddie’s hand, and he’s so beautiful like this that Freddie doesn’t even care that his own pleasure is being ignored for the time being. All he cares about is the way that Brian’s cock feels in his hand and how Brian is gasping and whimpering under his touch.

“I love you, Brian, you’re so good, you’re just perfect darling, you-” Freddie cuts off with a low moan as Brian finally reaches down to grab his cock and starts stroking him. It takes Brian a few moments to get used to the differences between touching himself and touching someone else, but even so he soon has Freddie whimpering and ducking his head to pant and mouth at the crook of Brian’s shoulder.

Freddie knows that he’s embarrassingly close to coming already, just from the touch of Brian’s hand on his cock and the sound of Brian groaning out his name in his ear. It’s a heady rush, knowing that Brian is so desperate because of _him_ , that Brian wants him so badly that he’s just falling apart underneath Freddie’s touch... And suddenly Freddie needs to have Brian come first, he needs Brian to reach that peak before Freddie loses the last of his control and tumbles over the edge himself.

So Freddie speeds up his hand on Brian’s cock, adds a flick of his wrist around the head, pulls out every trick he knows to make Brian come as quickly as possible. Brian chokes on his next moan and he lets go of Freddie’s cock to grab onto his wrist. “Fr-Freddie,” he gasps, rocking desperately into Freddie’s hand.

“That’s it, that’s it Bri, c’mon, come for me darling,” Freddie encourages him, and it’s not long that Brian is groaning and bucking up and spilling messily over Freddie’s hand and his own stomach.

Freddie keeps stroking him through the orgasm, stopping only when Brian starts to shake and Freddie knows that his touch is starting to become more painful than pleasurable. Even after Freddie lets go Brian still clings to his wrist, holding onto Freddie as he pants and shivers through his afterglow.

Brian looks _beautiful_ like this, blissed out and still riding the high of a good orgasm, and Freddie is _so_ painfully hard that he thinks he might actually die if he doesn’t come right this very second. He reaches for his own dick before remembering that he shouldn’t jack off with Brian’s come covering his hand - though the thought of doing so makes his dick twitch and precome bead at the tip, and he files that fantasy away to explore after they get tested.

Brian seems to have been spurred back into action by Freddie’s slight movement, and he lets go of Freddie’s wrist to reach for his cock with a hand that is, thankfully, still clean. Freddie cries out at the first brush of Brian’s fingers across his dick and digs his hand into Brian’s thigh as he bucks desperately into Brian’s hand.

“Mm, yeah, you’re so good, Freddie,” Brian praises. “Want you to come, wanna see you come for me-”

That’s it, that’s all it takes for Freddie’s orgasm to rip through him, sending pleasure racing down his spine and making him moan and writhe as Brian strokes him through it. He keeps murmuring praise to Freddie, a constant stream of _good boy_ and _beautiful so fucking beautiful_ and _love you so much_ that’s filled with so much adoration that Freddie knows he would be blushed bright-red with embarrassment if he was capable of doing anything but come to pieces underneath Brian.

Freddie collapses back against the bed, Brian at his side with his face nearly mashed into Freddie’s shoulder. They’re both sticky with come and eventually they’ll have to clean that up, but right now Freddie is more than happy to lie here in an undignified sprawl as he tries to catch his breath.

“Give me a minute and I’ll grab a washcloth,” Brian mumbles. Freddie feels more than hears him speak, or maybe he just knows Brian well enough that deciphering the slur of words is second-nature to him.

“It’ll take more than a damp cloth to clean this out of my body hair,” Freddie says. He sits up and Brian groans a little as he’s dislodged in the process, and Freddie laughs and leans down to plant a messy kiss on Brian’s temple. “Be right back, lovie.”

Brian grabs his wrist as he starts to climb off the bed and when Freddie looks back at him Brian is leaning up on one elbow and he asks, “You’re- you are staying the night, right?”

Freddie’s heart breaks a little at the uncertainty on Brian’s face and he hates that he’s the reason that it’s there. He moves back over and kisses Brian gently, taking his time with it and trying to convey as much love as possible through the action, before he pulls back and promises, “I’m staying. Just getting cleaned up.”

He tries to wash up as quickly as possible, loathe to leave Brian alone for long, and Freddie hurries back to the bedroom with a wet washcloth for him. Freddie takes a moment to find his pants and put them back on as Brian wipes himself clean, and he wrinkles his nose as Brian tosses the cloth somewhere across the room when he’s done.

“Please tell me you’re not just going to leave that there,” Freddie says as he climbs back into the bed.

Brian pulls Freddie in closer and snuggles up against him. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

“That’s disgusting, and you’re lucky I love you,” Freddie says with a laugh as he settles down and throws an arm around Brian’s waist. It hits him a moment later how _easily_ he said that, how effortless it feels to tell Brian that he loves him. After weeks of lying to himself and everyone around him, it finally feels like he can breathe again.

“Yeah, I am lucky,” Brian agrees and anything Freddie could say in response to that gets stuck in his throat. He loves Brian more than he could ever have words for, more than he could ever express in song or poetry, more than he could hope to spend a lifetime trying to covey.

“I do love you. So fucking much,” he whispers and what it lacks in eloquence it makes up for in absolute sincerity.

“Love you too,” Brian says, and even though he’s nearly asleep already Freddie knows exactly how much he means that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little chapter of the morning after, with some more conversations and a lot of well-deserved fluff!
> 
> There’s only the epilogue left to go after this. We’re nearly done, folks!

Brian wakes up alone the next morning. He rolls over and the other side of the bed is already cold and his stomach plummets, but as he reaches for his phone to check the time he catches the faint sound of music coming from his living room. He recognizes the familiar melody of _Here Comes the Sun_ and can’t help but smile.

There’s only one person who would be playing Beatles records in his flat on a Sunday morning.

He finds Freddie sitting on the sofa, a cup of tea in his hands, eyes closed and a contented smile on his face as he listens to the music. Brian leans against the doorway and watches him for a moment, taking in the sight of Freddie in his borrowed clothes, relaxed and finally back here again where he belongs. Brian knows that there’s more that the two of them still need to discuss but right now, with Freddie practically glowing in the early morning sunlight, there’s no lingering anxiety about what the future holds for them.

The song ends and Freddie cracks open an eye and gives Brian a knowing smile. “Are you going to stand there staring all day, or are you going to come join me?”

“Maybe I’ll keep staring. You are gorgeous, you know,” Brian tells him.

“Oh please, darling, I look a mess right now,” Freddie says, though even as he rolls his eyes there’s a faint blush starting to color the tops of his cheeks.

Brian shakes his head and crosses the room to stand in front of Freddie, leaning down to kiss him gently in greeting. Freddie cups the side of his face with the hand that isn’t holding onto his tea, and Brian knows that he wants to start every morning like this for the rest of his life.

“Mm, good morning indeed,” Freddie purrs. Brian lets out a soft laugh, his forehead pressed against Freddie as he just enjoys the closeness between them - before Freddie breaks the moment by shifting and saying, “You should sit down, dear. I’ll get you some tea.”

“You don’t have to do that-” Brian tries to protest, but Freddie takes advantage of the fact that Brian is still half-asleep to stand up and coax Brian to take his seat on the couch.

Brian pouts and Freddie kisses his forehead in apology. “You’d fall asleep before the kettle was done boiling. Just let me get it this time.” He laughs a little and adds, “At least this time I won’t have to microwave it! And good thing too, since we don’t have John around today to rewire half your kitchen.”

Brian stares at Freddie in confusion for a long moment before the memory comes back to him. “Right, well, luckily I haven’t had any more electrical problems since John fixed things up,” Brian says with a chuckle. “Though, if him or Roger were here we could send them out to get breakfast again so we wouldn’t have to leave the flat...”

“Unfortunately, dear, we’d still have to leave to pick up condoms at some point,” Freddie says as he makes his way into the kitchen. Thankfully Brian’s flat is so small that it’s easy to continue the conversation even as he fills up the kettle for Brian’s tea. “And we need to get tested sooner rather than later, though I don’t know that anywhere will be open on a Sunday…”

“We can take care of that during the week,” Brian says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the noise of the kettle and Freddie digging through his cupboards. “Although, and I hate to even bring it up, do you need to get anything from Tony’s place? We can go over there today if you need to.” There’s no way that Brian would make Freddie face down his cheating ex alone, even if he’s pretty sure that he might try to fight Tony again for what he put Freddie through.

“Luckily, I never left anything with him.” There’s the sound of a spoon clinking against the side of a cup and then Freddie reappears with Brian’s tea, and a new cup for himself as well.

Brian takes the cup of tea from Freddie. “But you’ve always left your things here…”

“Yeah,” Freddie says with a teasing grin. “Funny how love works, isn’t it?”

Brian grins back at him, so happy and full of love that he knows that he couldn’t put it into words if he even tried. With Tony seemingly out of their life for good all Brian wants to do is spend the day with Freddie, enjoying each other’s company and making up for lost time, but Freddie doesn’t immediately join him back on the couch. He stays standing for a few long moments, staring behind Brian as his smile starts to fade in a puzzled look, until Brian breaks the silence and asks, “Fred? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Freddie says immediately, though he still doesn’t sit down. “I was wondering if there was something different about the tapestry, but…” He sighs. “Nevermind. I didn’t think I finished it, but I guess I misremembered.”

“You didn’t misremember,” Brian says, a little softly. He twists around so he can look at the tapestry as he explains, “I moved that side table over, to cover up the bit you hadn’t painted yet. I…” He swallows a little roughly. “I didn’t know if you’d ever come back to finish it.”

Freddie makes a small, distressed noise in the back of his throat and Brian reaches for him, but Freddie takes a step back from him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so fucking sorry, Brian. I know I keep saying that but I really am. I never meant to hurt you like that, I was just-”

“You were hurting too, and that’s _my_ fault,” Brian cuts in. “I know what I said to you during that argument and it was wrong- god, I was _such_ an arse and I was wrong for saying what I did. I don’t blame you for needing some space.”

Freddie shakes his head. “I didn’t need space because of what you said. I just didn’t know how to be around you when I thought you didn’t love me... but that’s hardly a fair excuse.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Brian says firmly. “And I’m sorry for ever making you think that I didn’t love you, and for shutting you out as well.”

“I was the one who-”

“ _I_ was the one who stopped inviting you over, and who stopped even _talking_ to you if it wasn’t about band things,” Brian reminds him. “I wasn’t the only one hurting, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to even think about you.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Well it’s not entirely yours either.”

Freddie lets out a small huff of laughter. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to accept that we’re both to blame here, and agree to put it all behind us. Or I think we’ll spend the rest of our lives trying to outdo each other with apologies!”

“And we definitely don’t want that,” Brian agrees with a small laugh of his own. “Now come on, sit down and forget about the tapestry for a moment, alright?”

This time when he reaches out towards Freddie, Freddie moves forward and lets Brian grab the sleeve of his borrowed jumper and pull him back down onto the couch. Even though Brian has lost count of the number of times that they’ve sat here, this time Freddie doesn’t hesitate to curl up against Brian’s side and Brian feels his chest grow tight with love. Freddie is always affectionate with his friends but this is something slightly different. This is just for _Brian_.

“I always planned on finishing the tapestry, you know,” Freddie says, because apparently he’s not quite willing to let this subject go yet. “I thought if I left part of it blank before I told you that I loved you, then I’d still have an excuse to come back over even if you turned me down.” He sighs, and adds, “But that plan got thrown out the window, of course.”

Brian swallows down the immediate apology that he wants to give. He _is_ sorry, just like Freddie is too, but there’s no point in constantly making themselves miserable over the past. “Well you can finish it now, if you want. I mean, not right now, not _today_ , but-”

“But soon enough,” Freddie agrees. “I still have to finish leaving my mark on that thing, you know.”

“With how much work you’ve already put into painting that tapestry, I think you’ve left enough of a mark already,” Brian teases. Whether the tapestry is finished or not doesn’t really mean much to Brian; that’s all secondary to simply making sure that Freddie stays here with him this time, no matter what happens.

“Well, yes, but that was all work done on _your_ part of the tapestry. I have to finish my part out now,” Freddie says.

Brian looks at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The design for the tapestry… Did I never explain…?” Freddie sighs and shakes his head. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t have. It’s supposed to be, well, _us_. We were talking about our songs, the White Queen and the Black Queen, and that concept for a second album and…” He waves a hand towards the tapestry, using the gesture to finish his sentence.

Brian glances back at the tapestry. He hasn’t really paid much attention to it in recent weeks, instead letting it fade into the background along with the rest of Freddie’s influence on Brian’s space, but the design is exactly as he remembers: white and gold on the top half, fading into black and silver on the bottom. Brian has always thought - _hoped_ \- that it was supposed to symbolise the two of them, but he has no idea what Freddie means by finishing “his part”.

Freddie is still talking as Brian stares at the tapestry, trying to puzzle out what he means. “Anyway I know that that’s a little ridiculous, even for me, but the design did turn out quite lovely, didn’t it? I’m rather pleased with your white and gold section-”

“ _My_ white and gold section?” Brian echoes as the pieces fall into place. “I thought that was _your_ part of the tapestry!”

“My part? Why on earth would it be _my_ part?” Freddie asks. “You’re writing the White Queen song, darling, not me!”

“Yes, but that yellow is your favorite color!” Brian points out. “And you’re the one who’s all-” He gestures vaguely with one hand, which Freddie raises an eyebrow at, and Brian sighs and tries to explain. “You’re _vibrant_. You’re full of life and you make everything around you seem brighter and more exciting. _I’m_ the one who’s argumentative and stubborn and usually in a black mood-”

“Oh, hush. You aren’t nearly as bad as you think you are, Brimi, I promise you that,” Freddie tells him. “And anyway, the blackness wasn’t supposed to be bleak anyway and it _certainly_ wasn’t supposed to be an insult towards you! It was supposed to be dark and alluring and mysterious, like the night sky. The white section was of the tapestry was always supposed to be your radiance, Brian. It has nothing to do with me at all.”

Brian swallows down a sudden lump in his throat. He’s never been described as _radiant_ before, and the fact that Freddie was thinking of him like that when Brian was only just starting to fall in love with him… It’s overwhelming, and Brian doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Freddie always knows when Brian doesn’t quite have the right words to say anything, and he smiles at him and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Maybe we’ll just agree that there’s parts of both of us in both sections of the design, and call it a day.”

“You’re certainly eager to let sleeping dogs lie today,” Brian says. He takes a sip of his tea and gives Freddie a teasing smirk over the top of the cup. “I’m starting to think you have ulterior motives here…”

Freddie throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Oh yes, it’s all part of my dastardly plan to stop either of us from falling into a pit of misery and ruining everything else we could be doing today.”

“And what else could we be doing then?” Brian asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows what Freddie is getting at.

“Having wild sex until we tire ourselves out, _obviously_ ,” Freddie says. Brian laughs and goes to pull Freddie in closer so he can kiss him properly, only to have Freddie squawk and squirm away as his tea splashes over the side of his cup and spills down his hand. “And we’re buying you a fucking table for your living room too!” Freddie adds, rather crossly.

Brian tries, and mostly fails, to smother his laughter as he plucks the now half-empty cup of tea from Freddie’s hand and sets it on the floor away from their feet. “We’ll add that to the shopping list. Condoms, a table… Anything else we need?”

“Nothing else I can think of,” Freddie says. Now that he’s been relieved of his tea, and once Brian carefully sets his aside as well, he climbs over into Brian’s lap, straddling him very much like he had only the night before. “And I know it’s still early but I _really_ think we should get on with that shopping as quickly as possible, because I want to come back here and-”

A familiar chime interrupts the rest of Freddie’s sentence and he groans in frustration, and lets his head thud gently against Brian’s shoulder. Brian recognizes the noise as one of Freddie’s many text tones and he sighs, and tightens his grip on Freddie’s hips just a little. “Maybe if you ignore it, they’ll leave you alone?” he tries.

“No, that’s the alert for the band chat,” Freddie says with a sigh. “It’s either something important, or Roger being ridiculous.”

“If Trident wants us in the studio, we’re not going,” Brian grumbles. All he wants is _one day_ with Freddie with no distractions and no interruptions. He thinks they both deserve that, after all this time.

“Agreed,” Freddie says. He kisses Brian, and uses the distraction to slide off his lap and grab his phone from where he left it in the kitchen. Brian spends half a second debating grabbing his own phone from the bedroom, before deciding that he can’t really be bothered to get up. If it’s anything important, Freddie will tell him.

“It’s John, actually,” Freddie calls out. “Veronica has some spare tickets to an art exhibition today, John says we can meet them there if we’re interested.”

“That’s nice of her,” Brian says as Freddie returns to the couch, this time lying down with his head in Brian’s lap.

“It’s just a shame that we’re going to be too busy to take them up on that offer,” Freddie says. He types out a quick reply that Brian reads over his shoulder.

_**Freddie:** thnx deacy but bri and I already have plans for today_

“Well, that’s one way to tell them about us,” Brian says with a sigh and a wry grin down at Freddie.

Freddie shrugs. “We couldn’t keep it a secret forever, darling.”

_**John:** you and… brian?_

_**Roger:** oh so u two are talking again?_

Both Freddie and Brian wince at Roger’s message, and Brian says, “Yeah, but is doing this over text really the best idea? Now they’re going to be hounding us all day.”

Freddie is already typing out his next reply. “No, I don’t think they will…”

_**Freddie:** we’re doing a bit more than talking dear_

_**Roger:** ??????_

_**John:** wait are you two…?_

_**Roger:**!!!!!!!!!  
_ _👀👀👀_

_**Freddie:** 🍆🍆🍑🍑👅👅_

_**John:** well done you two  
_ _please don’t send any more emojis_

_**Roger:** ur fucking gross but congrats  
_ _i demand the full story later  
_ _when ur done letting Bri have his way with you_

_**John:** roger please shut the fuck up too._

“That’s a little unnecessary,” Brian says, though he’s still laughing at the responses from John and Roger. They do owe their friends a full explanation of what happened later but that’s better left for an in-person conversation, rather than trying to tell the story through text messages.

“That’s what happens when Rog knows too much about my sex life,” Freddie says as he sets his phone aside. He cranes his neck back to look up at Brian and smiles mischievously as he says, “Although, we haven’t actually had a conversation about those kinds of preferences yet - if you even know what you’d like to try out…”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea of what I’d like to try,” Brian says. He leans down to brush a chaste kiss across Freddie’s lips and he adds in a low murmur, “After all, I said I haven’t had experience with men before, _not_ that I haven’t had experience with anal sex.”

Freddie sits bolt upright, twisting around to stare at Brian with wide, shocked eyes. “Brian May, just what sorts of things did you get up to with those ex-girlfriends of yours?”

Brian smirks and waggles his eyebrows as he climbs off the couch, dancing out reach of Freddie as he tries to grab him to pull him back. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised by this, I keep telling you that I’m not a blushing virgin!”

“Not a- Brian get back here!” Freddie shouts. “I demand an explanation, darling! Were you getting _pegged!?_ ”

Brian laughs and leans against the doorway to the living room, grinning widely at Freddie who’s still sitting on the couch looking like his entire world has been turned upside down. “I guess we’ll just have to go buy those condoms and you can figure out for yourself what sort of experience I have,” he teases.

Freddie scrambles off the couch and races towards Brian as Brian, laughing wildly, disappears into his bedroom. His plan was to get dressed so they can head out to the shop and get back as soon as possible… but as Freddie tackles him onto the bed, pinning him in place and kissing him breathless, he thinks maybe that plan can wait just a little while longer.


	14. Chapter 14

The small dressing room is a scene of absolute chaos half an hour before Queen’s show is scheduled to start. Clothing is strewn across chairs and the floor, and the single table shoved in the corner has been taken over with makeup cases and hair products. John is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall as he tunes his bass, chatting with Veronica who’s perched on a chair next to him. Across the room, Roger is loudly arguing with Joe and Phoebe about the best way to convince Jim to actually show up to a concert one of these days. 

And standing in the middle of it all, seemingly unaware of the commotion around him, is Brian. 

He’s the last of them still getting changed into his stagewear and Freddie is watching him get dressed, because he can and because he’ll never turn down a chance to admire Brian’s lean figure. Brian catches him looking and Freddie waggles his eyebrows at him in an over-the-top suggestive manner, just to make Brian laugh.

“Are you just going to keep staring, or do you want to help me with these buttons?” Brian asks him as he shakes out his Zandra Rhodes tunic and slides it over his head. There’s so much fabric in the sleeves and the pleats along the bottom that for a moment Brian entirely disappears in a sea of white satin. But then he resurfaces, with a wide grin that still makes Freddie's breath hitch in his chest no matter how many times he sees it.

"Turn around, darling," Freddie tells him and Brian does, pulling his hair to one side as much as he can to expose the buttons on the tunic and the long line of his neck.

Freddie remembers the first time he helped Brian with his tunic, and how it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. Now he doesn't have to worry about that. Now he lets his fingers trail purposefully down Brian's spine as he finds the first button, and he smiles as Brian shivers at the gentle touch. They have too little time before the show to get up to anything now, but Freddie's mind is already spinning with thoughts on what they can do _later_ \- after the show and their plans with the others that will follow, of course. 

Still, Freddie can't resist kissing the back of Brian's neck after he finishes doing up the last button, and he's not surprised when Brian turns around to kiss him properly as well. They keep it chaste but that doesn't stop John from calling out a teasing, "Oi, keep the PDA out of the dressing room!"

"We can keep it on stage, if you prefer," Freddie says, but he’s joking too. Brian and him aren’t hiding their relationship but they also want to keep some things to themselves. They don’t need the world to see them making out on stage. They both want Queen to succeed - or fail, as unlikely as _that_ is - on her own merits, not because their relationship swayed the opinions of their fans one way or the other. 

It’s not that dating Brian is _difficult_ , but for the first time Freddie thinks he understands what people mean when they say that relationships require effort in order to work. Loving Brian, touching him, talking with him, being with him… all of that is as easy as breathing to Freddie. It's harder to deal with the lingering guilt that resurfaces when Freddie hears the heartache in Brian's White Queen song and realizes that it's about him, or the anger that comes when Brian protests against Freddie's decision to try to stay friends with Paul. It's easy to open up to Brian as a friend, but it's hard for Freddie to open up to him as a lover and he still finds himself struggling at times to adjust to a relationship that's leagues healthier than any other that he's been in before.

But Freddie and Brian are both working through it, and with every day that passes their lingering hangups fade a little bit more and the tough conversations become fewer and further between. When Brian starts to ask, "Hey, Fred, can we talk about…?" Freddie isn't immediately filled with dread, and when Freddie gets insecure and a little needy Brian now recognizes it and responds with affection rather than annoyance. They may not see eye-to-eye on every little thing, but Freddie doesn't need them to; they're in-sync on the things that matter the most, and they love each other enough to meet somewhere in the middle for everything else.

"Isn't that what you do already? You can't keep yourself off Brian no matter what song we're playing," Roger says as he joins in the teasing.

"So what? Jealous, darling?" Freddie asks as he practically drapes himself over Brian and plants a messy kiss on his cheek.

"More like happy that you're someone else's problem now," Roger retorts. Freddie picks up someone's discarded shirt and lobs it at Roger, and the laughing drummer easily bats it away.

"Hey now, Freddie's hardly a problem," Brian says. Freddie beams at him, but its quickly replaced with a look of mock-affront as Brian continues talking. "A handful, sure. An lovably affectionate nuisance, maybe. But not a _problem_."

"Aren't you supposed to be on his side?" Phoebe asks with a laugh.

"Oh, please, they're practically married already," Roger says. "And whenever you do tie the knot, you can just wear your wedding dresses-turned-tunics from Zandra and call it a day."

"Cut it out, Rog, that's not funny," Brian mutters, his face starting to flush a little red with embarrassment. Freddie can feel his own cheeks starting to heat up a little too, but maybe for a slightly different reason. Brian and him have only been officially dating for a few weeks now, far too short of a time to be considering marriage… but Freddie would be lying if he said that he's never thought about it at all.

So he's a romantic at heart with a penchant for idle daydreaming. Who can really blame him for how his thoughts wander when he has Brian and their relationship on his mind?

"You know what _is_ funny, though?" Joe says. "It's 10 minutes until showtime and I don't think Brian's ready yet.”

"Oh, fuck!" Brian swears as he untangles himself from Freddie's embrace and makes a beeline for the makeup table. "I still don't have my eyeliner done, and my hair's a mess-"

"I thought the messy hair was intentional, seeing as how that's what it usually looks like," John says. 

Veronica kicks him in the thigh, and then stands up. "You worry about the eyeliner, Brian, I'll deal with your hair."

"I can fix his hair!" Freddie offers, but Veronica shakes her head and gently hip-checks Freddie to nudge him away from Brian.

"If you get your hands in his hair now, the two of you are just going to distract each other again and you'll never make it on stage," she says as she pushes Brian down into a chair and starts to gently finger comb Brian’s hair to coax it back into a slightly neater state. 

“I wouldn’t let Freddie distract me _that_ badly!” Brian protests, and he scowls when the rest of the room erupts into good-natured laughter. Freddie wants to kiss the scowl away, but he knows if he does that then they’ll only end up proving Veronica right. 

They all finally stumble out of the dressing room five minutes before Queen is due to be on stage. Brian ist still adjusting his guitar strap and Phoebe is adjusting Freddie’s tunic so it hangs correctly on his shoulders, and meanwhile John is trying to confirm that everyone knows the plan for the rest of the evening. They’re all talking over each other, voices rising and falling and jostling to be heard, contributing to the high energy as the start of the show draws closer and closer.

“So we’ll meet back here when Queen’s set is done, and once we get the equipment loaded up we’ll head back to Roger’s-”

“Alright Phoebe, yes, thank you, I think that’s fine-”

“Jim says he can meet us after the show after all-”

“-stop and get more vodka-”

“-have some back at my place-”

“Did we decide on dinner-?”

It’s chaos, but it’s a chaos that Freddie loves. It’s a chaos that only comes from having these people, this family of choice, around him and Freddie will never be able to get enough of it. 

“Hey, Queen! You’re on stage in a minute here!” says one of the uni students acting as a stage manager for that evening’s performances. That’s the cue for Veronica, Joe, and Phoebe to say their quick goodbyes and hurry out to the front of the house to watch the show, while Freddie starts to head towards the wings of the stage. 

“Freddie, wait a second,” Brian says, gently grabbing his wrist to hold him back. Roger and John exchange a look and roll their eyes, but they’re grinning as they brush past Freddie and Brian to give them a moment of semi-privacy. 

“What is it, Brian?” Freddie asks, though he’s smiling too because he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what Brian wants. 

And sure enough, Brian leans down to kiss Freddie deeply. He has one hand on Freddie’s cheek, and his Red Special is bumping against Freddie’s stomach, and Freddie can hear the audience cheer in the background as Queen is announced. It’s heady and perfect, even if it doesn’t last nearly long enough for Freddie’s tastes. 

“There,” Brian murmurs as he pulls away. “A kiss for good luck, yeah?”

Freddie grins wildly at him, so in love that it makes him feel a little bit crazy, and he says, “I don’t need luck, Brian. Not when I have you.”

Brian’s suave confidence from the kiss vanishes instantly and he starts to go a little pink around the edges. Freddie laughs and gives Brian another quick peck, before pushing him onto the stage and following him out into the spotlight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap on this fic! Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and commented and left kudos on this fic. I know I’m terrible about replying to comments but I’ve read every single one and they have kept me going even when I was starting to get frustrated with writing this.
> 
> I may revisit this AU again later, since I have a few ideas for these guys kicking around in my head… but for now, I think it’s time to work on something else for a bit first!


End file.
